


I'll Never Tell

by Hurricanerin



Series: Say What You Want [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Lokiverse, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Dom Loki (Marvel), Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced Breeding, Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Orgasm, Forced Orgasms, Graphic Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Horn kink, Jotun, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, King Loki, Like he's a Jotun King and a jackass, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Rules Jotunheim, Loki is not nice, Loki-centric, Manipulative sex, Marvel Jotunn Culture, Mating, Mental Abuse, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Shameless, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Tom Hiddleston Loki, Unconsensual Exhibitionism, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Warning: Loki (Marvel), cockworship, cruel loki, mean Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-02-22 02:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13157154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hurricanerin/pseuds/Hurricanerin
Summary: Ruthlessly cast out of Svartalfheim for her decency, Petra finds herself at the mercy of a group of barbarians on Jötunheim.  She argues with their king, desperate for an opportunity to live with them for a chance at survival.  His reasons for refusing her are sound, and just as it seems he's about to sentence her to certain death, an idea strikes him.  The Jötnar population is hearty, but with few children.  It's been ages since the birth of a healthy baby, without which their species will perish.  Petra unknowingly presents him with a reason to let her stay and a solution to save his race.  If she allows him to breed her, she can live with his people.





	1. Paranoid

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Prize](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161064) by [thisismyshameaccount](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismyshameaccount/pseuds/thisismyshameaccount). 



> **[Dökkálfar](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Dark_Elves)**[/ **Dökkálfr**](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Dark_Elves): Dark Elves/Dark Elf  
>  **[Jötnar](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Frost_Giants)**[/ **Jötunn**](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Frost_Giants): Frost Giants/Frost Giant  
>  **[Jötunheim](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Jotunheim)** : Home of the Jötnar  
>  **[Svartalfheim](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Svartalfheim)** : Home of the Dark Elves
> 
> _skapning_ : Norwegian for "creature"  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time Petra stumbled into Jötunheim and came face to face with some intimidating strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beloved [TheLeftHand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLeftHand/pseuds/TheLeftHand) is not only a talented writer, but an amazing artist as well. She drew [this](http://i63.tinypic.com/1zwopxt.jpg) stunning picture of Loki and Petra. Words cannot express my gratitude!
> 
> [](http://i63.tinypic.com/1zwopxt.jpg)[](http://tinypic.com?ref=21oa2pu)
> 
> Petra is a Dark Elf. These are the pictures I used for inspiration: [1](https://www.deviantart.com/angevere/art/Xunae-portrait-343305697) [2](https://www.deviantart.com/kerembeyit/art/Feriel-94342211).
> 
> Jotunn Loki: [1](http://halpdevon.tumblr.com/post/168737515221/loki-but-hes-blue-and-has-a-half-pony-tail) [2](https://www.deviantart.com/nasyu/art/Loki-s-horns-436359617)

Norns, she couldn’t feel her face anymore.  The muscles in her thighs burned as she endeavored to move forward through the snow, each lunge draining what little energy she had left.  She estimated that without the protection of a cave, she had an hour until her body succumbed to the elements.  The Dökkálfar were not built for the cold. 

With a grunt, Petra tugged her hood and scarf closer and forced herself to take another step.  She squinted as snowflakes pelted the deep blue-gray skin of her cheeks, her eyes scanning for anything resembling a shelter.  The girl’s heart stopped when she caught sight of a faint black mass outlined against the sky.  A place to keep warm?  Maybe she had a chance at making it through this storm.  From the dregs of her energy stores she summoned the willpower to trudge forward.

Several hundred feet of slogging through the snow and she found herself facing a dense tree line.  It wasn’t a cave, but it was better than nothing.  If she was lucky, the pines would block some of the wind and cold, which she loathed.  She rather loathed her entire situation, but that didn’t change anything.

Being cast out of Svartalfheim wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to Petra.  That was a tie between losing at a juvenile game of hnefatafl, the penalty of which was having to kiss a Eldjötnar boy that tasted like stale sulfur, or watching her mother condemned to death and dismembered by trolls.  Both were awful experiences to which her banishment to Jötunheim didn’t compare.

However, being stuck on a frozen rock wasn’t pleasant.  Petra sighed, breath exiting her lungs in a puff of steam as she peeled back branches, slowly making her way into the forest.  Immediately the gusts died down, and she became aware of her wind-burned cheeks.  She moved slowly, eager to get out of the storm but with such little remaining stamina that each step felt as if it were her last. 

When a twig snapped, she froze.  She knew very little of the beasts on Jötunheim, but she was quite sure she wanted nothing to do with them.  Tree limbs rustled, two wet thumps sounded, followed by a hearty thud.  A celebratory hoot and a cry pealed from her right and, with as much grace as a body packed in layers could, she turned with her hand on the hilt of her dagger.  She didn’t know how to use it, but she wasn’t going to die without a fight.  Hooves battered the snow and a pair of mounted blue-skinned riders emerged, arrows drawn.

Frost Giants.  Known for their short tempers and brutality, not unlike her own people.  They looked at one another in confusion when Petra wasn’t an animal, but kept their bow arms high.

 _“Hva er du?_ ” inquired one of the men.

 “What?”

 _“Hva er du?_ ” the same rider asked suspiciously.

 “I don’t understand you.”

 _“Det er dumt.  Det er en Dökkálfr.”_ said the other giant, motioning at her.

The first man grunted with a nod.  He lowered his bow, which prompted the other to strike him and point at Petra.  They argued in a foreign language, one clearly adamant that she was a threat while the other seemed nonplussed.

Exhausted and slightly baffled, she squeezed her eyes shut and regrouped.

“Do you have heat?  Fire?  Food?” she asked uselessly.

The giants stopped their arguing long enough to stare calculatingly at her, and the first man nudged his horse a few steps forward. 

“You alone?”  he asked.

Ah, they spoke the common tongue.  Her tense shoulders relaxed, which only informed her of how sore her body was.  Hesitant to admit her vulnerability, but desperate for help, she nodded.

While Petra and the first man spoke, the second grumbled and dismounted.  He stalked into the trees, returning a moment later with the carcass of the elk they’d killed over his shoulder.  She stopped mid-sentence at the sight of the potential meal, mouth watering. 

The second grunted at the first, hoisting the body of the dead animal over the back of his horse and pushing up into the stirrup.  The first giant released a string of words, only pieces of which Petra understood.  He seemed to be arguing in her favor.

With a sigh, the second man glared at her.

 _“Kongen vil ikke like dette,_ ” said the second giant.

Vague memories of language lessons from her childhood flashed in her mind.

“ _Kongen?_   King?  You have a king?  I want to speak with him.”

Clearly displeased with the first, the second man turned his horse and kneed it into a canter back the way they came.

“Come,” invited the first, offering Petra a hand.

She took it gratefully and he pulled her up behind him.  Clenching her thighs, Petra hesitantly wrapped her arms around his waist.  He was a stranger and it felt awkward, but she was tired and not a strong rider.  She needed all the stability she could get.  Clucking, he urged the horse forward through the forest.

 

They rode long enough that Petra was struggling to stay awake on the back of the horse.  Neither rider would speak with her, whether they merely lacked conversational skills or interest, she was uncertain.

Eventually they broke through the forest, ambling into a camp.  Rows of erected tents lined the snowy ground, creating a square around an open section in the middle filled with pens for animals, a massive bonfire and groups of gathered Frost Giants.  Swarms of blue-bodied giants decorated in simple leather clothing sat around smaller fires, eating and talking to one another.

As she slid off the horse, Petra was shaken out of her observations by a cold hand shoving her shoulder.  Stumbling, she looked behind her to find the second rider pointing to the largest tent in the area.  The first rider seemed to have wandered off, leaving her with a giant that blatantly protested her presence.

“Go,” he waved with his hand.

Scrunching her lips in annoyance, she turned and plodded through the snow to the draped tent opening, hoping it led to their king.  Another push sent her tripping into the structure, and when she turned to glare at the giant that propelled her forward, he smirked in response.

A deep, sonorous voice sounded from deep inside the tent.

 _“Hva er dette?_ ”

Petra felt the giant behind her stiffen and bend in a crude bow. 

_“Min konge.”_

Near the back of the tent, torches lit the space, revealing an ornate wooden chair decorated with carved serpents.  A throne, she supposed.  In it sat a regal Jötunn slightly smaller than the riders that had delivered her, but infinitely more intimidating.  The lines and ridges on his face and upper body were more pronounced, black horns sprouted from his skull and his crimson eyes were colder than even the second rider’s.  Herding Petra further inside, the rider behind her rambled something off in the language she hadn’t heard for decades, his speech hurried and uncertain.  The man identified as their king sternly examined her while she shifted uncomfortably.  His ruby gaze was penetrating, as if he could interpret every nuance of her body language.  While the rider continued, pointing at Petra as if accusing her, the other giant interrupted.

“Enough,” said the man on the throne.           

Maroon eyes focused on the woman before him, sweeping up and down her body before meeting her own gaze.  He studied her for a moment, tilting his head in thought.  He drummed his fingers on the arms of his throne thoughtfully.

 “Leave us,” commanded the King.

The rider and several servants filed out of the tent, leaving her alone with the barbarian king.  He lifted his chin, smirking down at her and he leaned back in his chair, casually grasping the arms.

“Are you lost?”

Lost?  She wished.

“Not so much lost as… released.”

He took in her wind-tattered clothing and lack of supplies.

“You look like a beggar.”

“How-That’s really how you treat your guests?”

"I’m not sure you count as a guest.  A vagrant, perhaps.  Definitely an outsider.  But not a guest.”

Petra fumed.  Dark elves were not known for their manners, but his were atrocious.  Even her people had social standards.

"You’ve come to us for help,” he stated.

She nodded warily.

"I suppose we can take you back to the city.  Heimdall should be able to see you there.  You’ll call for him and he’ll bring you home, wherever that may be.”

Petra scoffed, “Does ‘released’ sound like a temporary situation to you?  I can’t go back to Svartalfheim.”

The king’s brows rose in angered amusement at her tone.  Petra bit her tongue, embarrassed that she’d let it get the best of her.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

His lips curled into a sardonic grin and he nodded, granting her forgiveness.  “It was.  Now, what’s the problem with returning to the city?”

“The problem is even if Heimdall found me, he couldn’t return me to Svartalfheim.  I’ve been… forbidden to return.  The wards won’t allow it.  I need to find a new home.”  She shifted her weight and broke his gaze, “Maybe… Yours?”

“You want to stay with us?  Like this?  You must think us barbarians.”

"I could… live like this,” she gestured around the camp, eying discarded bloody weapons and drying animal pelts.

The king threw his head back and laughed.  It wasn’t a good-natured chortle, rather an amused cackle

"How desperate you are to want to live like this!  This is a temporary hunting camp, _skapning_.  You think so little of us, of our way of life, do you?  We’re not savages.”  He paused and rethought his statement with a grin.  “I take that back.  We are savages, but not entirely uncivilized.  Some of us, at least.”  The amusement in his eyes evaporated, turning into a darker lust.  His gaze slowly raked over her face and body, lingering on the outline of her breasts and hips.  “You don’t want to be caught outside alone once the sun goes down, I guarantee you that,” he intoned, leering at her.

Petra wrapped her arms around herself.  Though she was dressed in layers, she felt her cheeks heat as if he’d seen her naked.

"A modest thing, aren’t you?  How sweet.  You won’t last long here.  Where is it you’d like to go, then?”

“I’m not merely… traveling,” she snapped.  “I’m looking for refuge.”

The king’s gaze narrowed, again his eyes searched her as if her body would provide clues.

“You should have the means to travel from realm to realm, shouldn’t you?  Why are you stuck here?”

“If I had the power to leave, I would.  I don’t have the abilities most of my kind do.”

“You don’t possess magic?  What kind of elf are you?”

Petra’s desperate expression grew cold.  “A runt, of sorts.  One born without a love for sadism and suffering.  A disgrace unworthy of life on Svartalfheim.”

The Jötunn ruler shrugged his shoulders, “Well, you can’t stay.  We don’t have the resources to feed a freeloader, and you have nothing to offer us.”

Petra’s jaw worked as she glared at him indignantly.

“How dare you suggest—.”

“I’ll have one of the women get you a bedroll for tonight and feed you in the morning, but you must be gone by sunup.  I’ll not have you lingering and wasting out resources.”

“You can’t just send me back out there!  I’m literally out of my element.  I’ll die.  Even if I make it to a different realm, what then?  There’s no guarantee I’ll survive.”

He looked down his nose at her, “Death is an honor—.”

“Dying of exposure and starvation isn’t an honor and you know it.”

He smiled grimly and crossed his ankle to rest on his knee.

“I’ll admit it’s not a glorious method of demise.  But I’ll not have my people suffer from lack of supplies because a useless elf can’t care for herself.  It’s a morbid and cruel ruling, for which I apologize.  It’s not personal.”

Uncrossing his leg, he pushed up from the chair and refastened his belt.  Intent on his task, he ignored Petra as she blinked at him.  She panicked.  He was sentencing her to death by not allowing her to stay and he didn’t seem to care.  There had to be something she could offer the heartless bastard.  Something that made him see her as a being rather than a hindrance.  She was a hopeless hunter, she couldn’t even do that in Svartalfheim.  But maybe she could be assigned a different task.

“I know I’m not skilled enough to bring down one of your beasts or forage through your land, but I could… I could mend clothing?  Or care for the little ones while you’re out hunting?  I’m good with children.”

To her surprise, he hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the scabbard of his sword.  He examined her, his face almost open and receptive at the mention of the young Jötnar.  Silence echoed between them as his gaze slowly deviated from her face to her torso.  When Petra brightened hopefully, his expression morphed back into a scowl and he narrowed his eyes.

“No.  The older children care for the younger.  We do not need an outside presence interfering in rearing our offspring.”

Petra opened her mouth to argue and he shot her a silencing look.

“Besides, there are only three children.  An adolescent and two almost grown.  The older watch the little one while the adults are out.”  He sighed, crossing his arms and peering out the tent opening at his people.  “The entire clan depends on those three.  They’d give their lives for any one of them.  They’re our future,” he murmured offhandedly.

Petra’s brows furrowed as she followed his gaze into the camp teeming with bodies.

“But there are hundreds of you, how are there only three children?”

The king's stoic façade fell briefly as he grimaced.  Stalking towards Petra, he pushed her towards the tent entrance, shaking his head.

“That is none of your business.  All that concerns you is finding a host for the night that’s willing to give up a ration of food in the morning.”

Petra stumbled as he herded her, sputtering and twisting in his grasp.

“Please.  You know the Dökkálfar!  We are a proud race.  We don’t beg for anything.”

He sneered and cocked a brow, “If you have nothing to beg for, then be gone.”

"I’m begging for my life!” she growled, wrenching her arm out of his iron grasp.   Wincing at the animosity in her tone, she ran her fingers through her silver hair in exasperation.

“What I mean is you have me completely at your mercy.  My life depends on your decision to let me stay.  It may not be of value to you, but I promise you I know the worth of life.  It’s a gift I treasure, despite the hardships.”

The king paused a moment, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily.

"You are stubborn.  Perhaps you would fit in with us more than I realized.  What is your name, _skapning_?”

“Petra,” she said, standing tall.  “What is yours?”

"You may call me Loki,” he said with a hint of a smile.

“Does that mean you’ll allow me to stay?”

He studied her, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.  “Only for the night.”

She released a sigh of relief, grateful for even one night of relatively safe sleep.

“Thank you.  I'll do anything.”


	2. Hate Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time we made a deal. Don't read into the chapter title too much. We're fine.

Before dawn, Petra awoke to a nudge to the ribs.

“Rise,” grunted a female voice.

Eyes opening slowly, blurred with sleep, she scrubbed her face with her hand and grunted when a foot connected with her middle a second time. 

"I’m getting up,” she growled.

The Jötunn woman at her side huffed and went back to work, stirring a pot over the fire.  The smell of simple oatmeal made Petra’s mouth water, and she scrambled to get up.  Still dressed in her clothes from the day before, she straightened her outer layer and smoothed her hair.

“May I have some of that?

The woman muttered something in her own language and spooned a serving into a metal bowl that she shoved at Petra.  The Jötunn threw a spoon at the dark elf, who caught it gratefully and dug in with vigor.

“The King wants to see you,” grunted the giant.

At his mention, Petra’s mouth ran dry, making it difficult to swallow the bite of oats she’d taken.

“Where is he?”

“You’ll find him in his tent,” said the woman, her words heavily accented.

 _In his tent._   She sighed.  Close proximity to such an intense man ideally wasn’t the first stop of her day, but it wasn’t like she had any say in that.

Silently Petra finished her breakfast, staring straight ahead at the tent wall as she chewed thoughtfully.  She hadn’t been dragged into the middle of the wilderness in her sleep or kicked out quite yet.  Maybe he had taken pity on her.

When she finished, she held the bowl out to her host.

"Thank you for letting me stay here.  I hope to repay your kindness,” she offered.

The woman huffed and took the bowl, stashing it in a tub of steaming water sitting over the fire.

Petra wandered through dawn-lit camp, relying on memory to get to Loki’s tent.  She passed groups of Frost Giants rallying together with spears, bows, and arrows, seemingly readying for a hunt.  Their brows raised equally in curiosity and furrowed in disdain as she passed.  Stares followed her all the way to the entrance of the king’s tent.  She peaked inside, knowing there was a chance that going in would only hasten her removal from their camp. 

Loki sat at a dining table, sipping from a cup in his hand.  He glanced up as she entered and motioned at the empty seat next to him. 

Sitting was good.  Sitting seemed like it could lead to something more permanent.

“I’ve thought of a solution to your problems,” he said.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Petra strode to the chair and sat with her hands in her lap.

“Anything.  What needs to happen?”

Loki steepled his fingers against his lips, his mouth quirked into a small, but devious, smile.

“As I mentioned yesterday, we only have three children, a number incongruent with our adult population.”  He gauged her response, quietly watching her.  When it became clear he wanted confirmation that she understood, she nodded. 

He continued, “We… haven’t been able to reproduce properly for quite some time now.  It seems something in us has changed biologically, preventing healthy pregnancies.”

Petra watched his solemn face, nibbling her lip.

“We think it has to do with the temperature of the fetus.  Infants have been born warmer and warmer, and it’s possible they’re no longer able to withstand the natural cold of their mother’s womb.”

Listening attentively, she folded her legs beneath her and perched on the chair.  Loki fiddled with the cup between his hands, lifting it to his mouth for another drink.  Metal clanked on wood when he put it down, staring at her warily.

“This might… Here.”

He produced a second cup and poured, then pushed it at her.  Impatient to hear the conditions, she ignored the drink, fidgeting anxiously in her seat.  His eyes mirrored the irritation he felt and he pointed at the cup.

“Drink,” he commanded.

Her icy blue gaze narrowed, not moving from Loki’s face as she picked up the cup and took a draw.  Almost immediately she sputtered and coughed.  It’s alcohol content was impossibly high.

“What is this?” she choked, her eyes watering as the liquid burned down her throat.

“Good Jötunn ale.  You may thank me in a minute.  Drink.”

Eying the drink dubiously, she took another tiny sip, wincing at the taste.

“Why am I going to thank you?”

His face was a mixture of emotions.  His eyes were serious.  Grim, even.  But his lips were twisted into a small smile that bordered on contemptuous.

“Because my proposition is… unconventional.  For an outsider, at least.”

She leaned in, growing frustrated that he was drawing it out.

Licking his lip, Loki’s mouth opened to speak again, “I want to breed you.”

Brows practically raised to her hairline, Petra let out a sharp laugh, only to interrupt herself by stammering in surprise when his face remained severe.  Loki continued, nonchalantly standing and closing the distance between them, invading her space as he boredly gripped her chin.  After holding her jaw for a moment, he jerked his hand, forcing her to angle her face back and forth as he inspected her.

“You’re seemingly healthy.  Somewhat intelligent.  My people are going to die out if this bout of infertility continues.  Jötunn and elf may be compatible genetically; there’s lore of hybrids.”  He pursed his lips.  “It’s pointless for me to approach other realms with this request.  No one wants to mate with a monster.  You, on the other hand...,” the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, “You have very little choice.”  Releasing her chin, he crossed his arms.  “Breed with us and you can stay.  Refuse and you’ll be gone before nightfall.”

Skin prickling with goosebumps, Petra swallowed hard.  Last night she’d pledged anything to stay, and this definitely fell under the scope of anything.  It just wasn’t what she had expected.  Loki had given the impression that she was revolting, not someone he would consider solid breeding stock.

Her own childhood had been bleak.  She was only a half-bred elf; her mother had scandalously lain with a Midgardian man and Petra had been conceived.  She grew up a pariah with a deep sense of emotion incompatible with the wicked lifestyle of Dökkálfar.  Being half human flooded her with more sentiment than her elven counterparts, and though she had agonized to blend in, the Dökkálfar sensed something was wrong with her.  Suspicion arose and when her mother was pressed on the identity of her father, her true heritage had been revealed and her mother murdered.

As a result, having children wasn’t something she’d considered.  She enjoyed them, but hadn’t wanted her own to suffer the same fate she had.  On Svartalfheim, at least.    

Deep in her thoughts, Petra startled when Loki said her name.

“Petra.”

Lost for words, she glanced up at him, brows furrowed in thought.

“I’m leaving in a moment, we’re hunting this morning.  You will remain in my tent and think things over.  I’ll give you until tonight to make a decision.”

When she didn’t speak, he turned and strode to a chest near the end of his bed.  Opening it, he retrieved a pair of worn, fingerless leather gloves and slipped them over his hands.  He also drew out a long dagger and a bow and arrow set before turning his gaze on Petra. 

“Now, can you read?” he asked as he sheathed the knife.

Still stunned, she nodded.  He smirked, as if pleased that his little elf was literate. 

“There are a few books on the shelf.  Otherwise you’ll have to entertain yourself.”  He sat his hip on the table, his knee touching hers.  “Don’t leave my tent.”

The crisp direction of his voice cleared her mind. 

“Why not?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed.  He wasn’t accustomed to questioning.

“Because I can’t guarantee that those who remain in camp won’t cause you harm.  Everyone is curious to see the mysterious elf brought in last night, and some curiosities are more macabre or licentious than others.”

Eyes wide, she shuddered.  “I’ll stay here.”

“Good.”

With one last critical glance at the girl, he selected from a batch of spears leaning against the tent wall and stalked out into the cold.

“I guess that’s goodbye,” she muttered.

 

When he returned Loki found Petra asleep, curled on his bed.  He watched the slumbering girl for a moment, more curious than he’d like to admit.  She was interesting, yes, but also rather lovely.  For an elf, at least.  Jötunn standards of beauty were very different, her slender build alone made her look weak, which was very unattractive.  But, beneath the mountain of clothes she was buried in, he had a feeling her body would be at least somewhat desirable.  Her face certainly was.  He could easily picture his cock between her deep blue-black lips or her features distorted in pleasure as he pistoned into her.

She’d unbound her long hair and it lay in a tangled mess around her face.  Her white brows were stark against her dark blue-gray skin, which looked softer up close than he would’ve thought.  Almost like human flesh.  Delicate.  Another weakness.

She was rather odd for a Dökkálfr, he supposed, which was an undesired variable for a strange situation.  He really should send her on her way as she’d only be a nuisance, but the idea came to him last night and so he’d propositioned her.

Lazily dragging his dagger from the sheath, he flipped it, catching the handle.  His booted feet clunked against the ground as he took two steps forward, vigilant but intrigued by the sleeping girl.  Just because she hadn’t acted like a true Dökkálfr the night prior didn’t mean she wasn’t toying with him.

The layers of clothing packed on her lower body were thick enough that she only felt a dull pressure when he prodded her leg with the knife.

“Wake up, _skapning_.”

Her eyes fluttered open as she realized where she was and scrambled to sit up.  Pushing her silver her hair from her face, she sleepily examined the Jötunn king, fresh from the hunt. 

Feathers woven into his hair complemented the golden beads that were present yesterday, and the red smeared on his cheek almost matched his eyes.  She was fairly certain it was blood.  Pulling her knees to her chest, she studied him for a moment, then blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Hunting looks like it was successful.”

Loki made a noise of affirmation, peeling off his bloodied gloves and tossing them into the trunk at the foot of the bed.  He abandoned his bow and arrows as well, then rested his hip against the table and ran a finger along his blade.

The corner of his mouth quirked and he shot Petra a glance out of the corner of his eye.  Then, he slowly flattened his hand, palm up.  His fingers contracted and a small crystalline ball materialized, growing in size as he fostered it, forming a hunk of ice.  Casually he began rubbing it in circular strokes along the length of the dagger.

They sat in almost silence, the only noise the repetitive wet slide of ice on metal as he sharpened the knife.  Her eyes flicked around the room, looking for a conversation piece or way to put off answering his earlier request, but she could think of nothing and he was waiting for her to speak.  With a deep breath, she let her lids fall closed.

“I’ll do it.”

His downcast eyes raised.

“You’ll do what?”

Petra stammered, the carmine of her blush contrasting heavily against her dark skin.

“I’ll… Let you do what we talked about earlier.”

He motioned for her to continue, raising his brows as if confused.  She pulled at the hem of her sleeve, avoiding his maroon eyes.

“I-I’ll let you breed me,” she mumbled.

Loki’s face relaxed and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Good.”

Petra waited for him to elaborate, to give her some kind of directive or information about her new assignment.  Instead, he ignored her and continued sharpening.  She squirmed and slipped off the bed, nervously twining her hands behind her back.

“So… How will it work?”

With a smirk, Loki looked up from his knife.

“You unfamiliar with mating practices?”

The elf’s cheeks and the tips of her pointed ears warmed to dark crimson and she glared.  “I understand the logistics.  I meant how will this progress?  When will I do… it?  And with whom?”

Turning the dagger, he began working on the other side.

“With me,” he said nonchalantly.  He almost seemed disinterested.  “And we start tonight.”

Flustered, Petra struggled for words.  She didn’t expect it to begin so soon.  And with him?  The thought of mating with a Jötunn male was foreign enough, but to do so with their unsettling king who could barely look at her?  Mildly terrifying.

“Y-you?  I thought… Wouldn’t one of the others be better?”  One that she didn’t offend with her mere presence?  She flushed deeper as her mind raced, searching for additional reasons they were an unsuitable pair.  “Wouldn’t it be best to mate with a smaller Jotunn?  For a smaller child?”

Loki considered her size for a moment.  Compared to the giants, she was miniscule, but typical for a Dökkálfr.  He tilted his head, inspecting her hips.  They were wide enough to carry a large child, he supposed.  His child.  He’d rely on nature not to kill mother with baby.   

“No.  I’ll breed you myself.”  When she opened her mouth to argue, he gestured at the tent opening, “Or you can go.”

Petra stubbornly clammed up, her arms crossed in refusal to leave.  Loki put down the knife and ball of ice.  Her breath hitched as he took a step towards her, slowly backing her against the tent wall.  His chilly indigo finger nudged her chin up, forcing her to meet his cold gaze.

“You Dökkálfar are conniving.  Sneaky.  I don’t trust you not to manipulate my men.  Norns know the damage you could do.  Tricking them, turning them against each other, against me with your mere existence as a fertile female.”

Petra hissed in surprise, jerking her chin from his grasp and fighting the urge to gnash her teeth.  She was two heads shorter than he was, frozen and laughably weak in comparison, yet he had the audacity to accuse her of taking advantage of his people.

“I would never do something like that!”

“It doesn’t matter.  I’ll breed you or no one will.”

Scowling, she let the back of her head hit the side of the tent and gazed upwards.  She couldn’t force herself to make eye contact while talking about such an intimate topic, not when he was making such accusations yet still wanted sex.

“Fine.  I’ll do it with you.  Or let you do it to me.  However it’s supposed to work.”

Loki fought to keep warmth from the small smile that appeared on his lips.  As lustful a being and eager to fuck his _skapning_ as he was, he did truly care for the survival of his people and believed he had a chance with the peculiar girl.

“Good.  We’ll begin tonight.”

He reached behind him, presenting a long dress, a pair of thick woolen socks, some crude leather slippers and a cloak from the table.  “Put these on.  They’re warmer than your rags.”

Petra scowled, picking at her holey trousers.  They had been nice when she initially left, but the elements of Jötunheim had torn them apart.  She gratefully took them and shuffled to the far corner of the tent.

“Don’t look,” she snapped over her shoulder as she peeled off her inadequate coat to change.

Loki looked.  She was thinner than he expected, again challenging his idea of beauty, but the swell of a breast was the swell of a breast and hers were large enough.  His eyes wandered down her back to her rear.  Though she could use a few extra meals, her hips were just right for digging his fingers into.  Suddenly the image of his thick blue cock sliding into darker pussy made him hard.  Would her lips be pink?  Or blue-gray?  He was interested in investigating, but at a later time.

She finished changing and folded her old clothes, clutching them to her chest when she turned around.  She was only half surprised to see him staring at her.  She was getting the hang of this tricky Jötunn king.

“You’re very rude,” she said, lifting her chin.

Loki grinned, the first true smile she’d seen from him.

“You have no idea.”

 

That night, after a dinner delivered by Loki, Petra found herself squirming under the gaze of the giant.  He was blatantly staring at her from the tent entrance, peeling plates of armor and straps of leather from his body and depositing them on the ground.  Her stomach fluttered as he neared her, shirtless, clothed only in a pair of leather trousers.  His red eyes glittered in the low light, fixed intently on her. 

The Jötnar didn’t seduce.  It was an unnecessary ritual of exorbitance meant for more refined beings, but he found himself drawn to touching her.  In more ways than just those that resulted in procreation.

He lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder, running his calloused fingers over it and it fell through them.  She shivered, eyes wide as she looked up at him.

“It’s time.  Undress,” he grunted as he unfastened the rest of his armor.

Mouth too dry to swallow properly, she obeyed.  The comforting weight of her cloak disappeared as she shrugged it from her shoulders, letting it fall in a pile at her feet.  She peeled off the clothes he’d given her, which had been warmer than the ones she arrived in, letting them drop to the floor as he had.

When she stopped at her undergarments, appearing shy and small, Loki had to purse his lips to keep his mouth from curling in disgust.

“Have you not done this before?”

“I have,” she snapped, glaring as she reached behind to unfasten the band around her chest.

His shoulders dropped in relief and he let out a breath.  He was not interested in a simpering virgin’s first time.

When her last pieces of her security were gone, he took a moment to admire her body, starting with the tinge of scarlet kissing her ears.  Growing hard, he admired her breasts, there was enough to squeeze and fill his hands.  The width of her hips was slightly greater than he’d expected, which would bode well for both mother and child.  He palmed himself through his pants, his eyes amused as she shivered from cold.  She was such a fragile thing.    

“On the bed,” he pointed.

Arm clutched over her breasts, Petra approached his bed with a shaky breath.  Everything inside her screamed to run, that she didn’t have to do this.  Didn’t have to trade her body.  Maybe she could survive on her own.  But in her gut, she knew this was her only chance at living.  Jötunheim was simply too savage a realm for her to endure alone.  Without looking at him she turned and sat on the edge of the mattress. 

Loki rolled his eyes.  Non-Jötnar were never proficient at mating positions and she was no exception.

“On your hands and knees.”

The bed dipped under her weight as she crawled on top of it, positioning herself on all fours.  She chanced a glance behind her only to flush as she caught him with his ridged cock in his hand.  If she’d thought him intimidating before, now he was as menacing as his realm.  His girth was just shy of requiring his entire hand to grasp it, and she sincerely doubted she could take his entire length, let alone the added texture.

He gave her a pleased grin.  “Mating with giants has its perks.”

Petra pursed her lips and faced forward, finding a spot on the wall to stare at.

His feet scuffed against the floor as he closed the distance between them.  She was far from ready, but didn’t expect a comfortable experience to begin with.  The Jötnar were beasts, he’d be on and off in less than a minute, surely.

When she felt a hot puff against her rear, she twisted to look back at him.  The king was on his knees, staring at her exposed cunt.

“You’re practically steaming, _skapning._ ”

Her lips worked to form some kind of smart retort, but her tongue was heavy in her mouth.  With a deep blush, she turned back around.

A hand roved over her hip, dragging down her arse cheek to the back of her thigh.  It was joined by the other on the opposite side, and he gently pulled her open with a groan.  For some reason, perhaps because she was his exotic little creature, the lilac of her pussy lips made his mouth water.  He longed to suck them into his mouth, an impulse he’d never had with a Jötunn woman.  He shook himself.  Breeding was a very practical activity, one he enjoyed but never relished in, and he didn’t intend to start now.

Licking a cool finger, he eased it inside her.  Immediately her walls clamped down, making him groan at her tightness.  She contorted again, looking back at him with wide eyes.  He ignored her in favor of working his finger in and out of her hot cunt.

Stunned and confused, Petra faced forward once again, too self-conscious to watch him manually defile her.  She let out a gasp when he crooked his finger, her body too stiff to turn this time.  A burning sensation began in her pelvis, the heat warming her from the inside out.  As he continued she panted, pressure beginning to build and she found herself arching back in search of more.  With a smirk she couldn’t see, Loki obliged, using the gathering wetness to thrust his finger harder.  When his rhythm increased, her attempt to hold back a groan resulted in a choked grunt.

Only because Loki couldn’t see her face, Petra allowed herself the freedom to make expressions.  Or, perhaps it happened without her conscious permission.  She wasn’t sure.  Her mouth hung open, brows furrowed in pained pleasure as his fingers rubbed a spot inside her that made her see white.  As he casually stroked, the heat in her pelvis grew unbearable and her inner muscles began to flutter in anticipation.  She teetered on the edge of the precipice, so close to release she could barely stand it.  She’d never come at the hands or cock of another, only from touching herself.  She was quickly learning the allure of another’s touch and she wanted more.

Then he stopped.  The burn remained, but the intensity began to soften.

Dumbfounded, she twisted, teeth bared as she stared at him pleadingly.

“I-Please!”

Loki wiped his fingers on the inside of her thigh and ignored her cry.

"Why did you stop?” she demanded breathlessly.

"Stimulation aids in lubrication, making sex more comfortable.  Additionally, the contractions of your eventual orgasm will pull my seed further into your womb.  It is to my advantage that you come.”

That didn’t come close to explaining why he’d just intentionally denied her pleasure, but Petra was too single-minded to care.  All she wanted was to feel that winding pressure again.  She grunted in confusion and caught the sound of Loki sighing.

“But, until my come is inside you, your orgasm holds no worth,” he explained.  “I’m merely preparing you.”

Had she control over her breathing, Petra would’ve huffed.  Instead, she panted for air, her arms shaking. 

After a beat of silence, the tips of his black nails slowly scratched down the backs of her thighs.   As he released a pleased rumble, the frightened girl fought the urge to clench her legs together.  When they threatened to close, barring his entrance, he stopped.

“Do you want to survive the night?”

The only answer she offered was short, shallow breaths.  He slapped her rear, making her jerk and coaxing a whine from between her lips.

“Answer me.  I don’t have time for games.”

“Yes!  Please, yes, let me stay,” she mumbled.

“Then keep yourself spread.  I won’t repeat the command.”

She uttered a soft sob of frustration and hung her head, burying her fingers in the bedclothes as she resituated herself with her legs wide open.

“Good girl.”

Though the praise sounded clinical, the words stoked that fire in her belly.  Positive reinforcement wasn’t something Petra took lightly.  It was something she had ached for at home, but rarely received, even as a child.  It simply wasn’t part of Dökkálfar culture.

Loki’s fingers pet her entrance, idly smoothing moisture over her opening as he continued admiring his prize.  He hummed and she heard the rustle of clothing, indicating he’d stood.  More noise followed, and she jerked when he pressed his bare hips against her rear, his cock prodding her.

           

He was tall enough that had she merely bent over the side of the bed, he’d have to get on his knees himself.  She had a feeling he would be reluctant to do so.  Instead, the added height of the raised bed lined her rear up with his pelvis.  Wary of his size and strength, she braced herself for his entrance.  A hiss sounded as he began to press into her, making her aware of each and every raised detail on his cock.  He stretched her almost beyond capacity and it stung, causing her to wince away. 

Another crack sounded as he spanked her twice.

“Do you know what we do with Jötunn females resistant to mating?”

“No,” she breathed.

“We tether them.  Do you want to be tied down?  To have your baby sired while you’re at my mercy?”

Afraid to use her voice should it quiver, she shook her head.

“Good _skapning,_ ” he crooned, sliding his hand over her rear to press on her lower back.  The pressure he applied encouraged her to arch, and in fear of being bound, she held still.

With a groan, he seated himself while she bit her lip to keep from whimpering.  He felt as big as he looked and she swore she’d split open at any moment.  To her surprise, he allowed her time to adjust. 

He gathered her hair in one hand, running his fingers through the silky strands before wrapping it in his fist.  Holding her hair taut, he began with small thrusts, smirking as a high-pitched groan slipped from between her lips.  She could feel every inch of the ridged designs on his cock rub against her swollen walls, causing her eyes to roll back.  That cursed, beloved warmth returned to her belly and she felt her walls squeeze his length involuntarily, coaxing a groan of his own.  Petra began to relax as his thrusts grew faster. 

The first time he nearly pulled out of her, then slammed back in, she collapsed onto her forearms, which forced her back into an arc and opened her slit to him even further.  He grunted in pleasure and his thrusts quickly wound the coil in her pelvis.  With a shocked cry she came, shuddering as he fucked her through her orgasm.  Panting, she let her head drop, her ribs expanding quickly with each desperate intake of air.

“Did you just come?” 

“I-Yes?”

“Do not waste a vital part of the mating process like that.  What if you couldn’t come after I finish?  You’ll save your orgasm for after mine.”

She sputtered, trying to turn but he held her hair tightly. 

“It’s not like I tried to!”

“Good, then you should be able to put forth the effort to contain yourself.”

With that, he began rutting into her without warning and she buried her face in the sheets as that cursed pressure began rebuilding.  Afraid of his wrath, she wriggled, trying to find a position where his ridged cock didn’t feel as good pummeling her, but couldn’t find one and the heat was building.  Light exploded behind her eyes and she nearly lost her balance as her cunt contracted, squeezing his cock so hard it almost hurt.  Loki’s grip on her hips was all that kept her stable.

There was a beat of silence.

“If you come again before I do, I’ll stop and you’ll sleep outside.”

Petra’s panting stuttered and she managed a nod.  As if she could control what her body was doing. 

Loki resumed thrusting, growling and running his hands up along the length of her spine to her upper back.  Long, wickedly strong fingers dug into her skin as he yanked her shoulders back, forcing her to arch painfully.  She cried out as his black nail bit into her flesh, overwhelmed by the mixture of pleasure and pain. 

She put every available neuron towards preventing another orgasm.  She thought about home as the coil in her belly tightened, about blood and torture and scathing hate.  He hissed as her walls began to flutter and she cried out, this time actively trying to crawl away from him to prevent her orgasm.

His fingers dug into her sides, anchoring her in place as he lost his rhythm, his hips jerking as he grunted deep in his throat.  His erratic pumping forced another orgasm from Petra and she let out a shriek of frustration, terrified that she’d die alone outside tonight.  They both remained in place, panting heavily as their hearts slowed.

“You’re fortunate I came, _skapning_ , or you’d be sleeping with the wolves.”

Petra managed to exhale on a whimper, her pussy still throbbing.  She tried to crawl out from under him, but he held her tight.

“I’ll stay inside of you until we fall asleep,” he stated, his breath tickling her ear. 

She released a yelp of surprise when he wrapped an arm around her middle, lifting her as he crawled forward on the bed.  Mindful of her inferior Dökkálfar blood, he pulled a fur from the floor and wrapped it around the both of them.

Her cunt pulsed as she tried to get comfortable, unintentionally squeezing him.

“Keep that up and there will no longer be a use for this load to impregnate you.  I will provide many more, and easily can tonight.”

She stilled almost immediately.  Delirious from her orgasms and the stress of the day, her lids fluttered shut before she had time to process that she was falling asleep with the Jötnar king’s cock inside her.


	3. Fill the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time we went home.

The day Loki allowed Petra out of his tent, she was a magnet for attention.  At first, the giants collectively stared at her from their fire circles, through cracks in tent openings and peeked around firs.  Then, a young Jötunn sidled up to Petra and Loki and asked if he could touch her hair.  Confused, but eager to interact, she agreed.

One by one, several found reason to approach her.   Some while she was with their king, using the excuse of speaking with him to side-eye the Dökkálfr, others simply strode up and pestered her with their heavily-accented questions.

“Who are you?” asked a trio of young women with spears over their shoulders.

Simultaneously someone tugged on her sleeve, “Why are you here?”

Two friends whispered loud enough for Petra to hear, “What is wrong with her skin?”

“Where are you going?” demanded a stout, older Jotunn with a scar across his eye.

“Why does her hair look like clouds?” a younger male wanted to know.

Overwhelmed with attention, the poor elf did the best she could answering the curious giants.

There were, of course, the section of scowling Jötnar that avoided Petra as if she radiated intense heat.  They frowned at her from across the settlement, their distaste clear.  For a species seemingly preoccupied with meeting the most basic of needs, one would think there was little room for scorn in their culture.  Petra was unpleasantly surprised to find this untrue.

Loki was showing her the way back to his tent when they heard a bitter snicker.

 _“_ _Du hører ikke hjemme her, hore_ _,”_ hissed a pretty female as they passed.

Knowing that not everyone was going to like her, but taken aback by the woman’s hostility, Petra turned to Loki. 

“What did she say?”              

“Nothing,” he said tersely, pushing Petra along with his hand possessively on her lower back.  He snapped something over his shoulder at the giant and snow crunched beneath heavy stomps as she stalked off.              

As they entered his tent, Loki headed for the bed and began pulling at the ties of his trousers.  When she noticed the outline of his hard cock against the leather she took a step back.  “What-Now?  You want to do it now?”              

“I have need.”              

“And I have decency!  You know I can’t… keep quiet.  I’ll give us away.”              

“Your screams echo just as loud during the day as they do at night.”              

Coming up short with a smart retort, Petra grumbled to herself and fumbled to remove her own clothes, folding them neatly and setting them on the floor near the bed.  Loki caught her off guard when he hooked an arm around her middle, hauling her onto the mattress.  She tried to keep her cry of surprise quiet, but she was fairly certain she’d failed.              

Plopping her on all fours, he wrapped his hand around his ridged cock and began stroking while taking two fingers into his mouth.  Petra’s breath hitched when he kneed her thighs apart and worked his slick digits inside her, her back involuntarily arching as she raised her rear in offering.  When he spoke, the smooth sound of his deep voice made her shiver.              

“What is your objective?”               

Despite the fact that he couldn’t see her flaming face, she hid it against her arm.  “Not to orgasm until after you do,” she mumbled.              

“Good _skapning_ ,” he purred.              

As his fingers pumped insistently inside her, easily coaxing her cunt awake, moisture flooded her entrance.  The sounds of his fingers violating her made her wince, the noise only adding to her embarrassment.  The bed creaked as she shifted uneasily, fighting down the pressure beginning to build in her lower belly.  When his fingers brushed against the spongy patch of tissue and earned a guttural groan from the elf, she whined and tried squeezing him out.              

“I-I’m not sure I can do this!”              

“Can’t do what?”              

She twisted, glaring at him from over her shoulder.  “I’m not sure I can… control it.”              

The corner of his mouth twitched as he gently forced his way back inside her pussy.  “You’ll learn to control yourself or I’ll make you come so many times you won’t dream of orgasming without my permission.”              

With another whine, she relaxed, allowing his fingers passage.              

He crooked them, lightly teasing the spot that made her toes curl.              

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she gritted.              

“Doing what on purpose?”              

“Making,” she took a shaky breath, trying to concentrate, “it feel good.”              

Without turning around, she could sense his cruel smile.                

“I’m merely preparing you.  Would you prefer I not?  I doubt that would be comfortable for either of us.”              

She moaned, half fueled by pleasure, half by frustration.  When the tempo of his thrusting fingers increased, she scrambled forward, sighing in relief as his digits slipped from inside her.  Chilly hands dug into the flesh of her hips, yanking her back with a low, feral growl.              

“Be good, _skapning,_ or I’ll tie you down.”              

Whining softly, Petra backed up until she felt his hands on her rear.  He let out a hum of approval and dipped his fingers into her entrance, scooping up moisture and smearing it on the head of his cock.  Without a word, he pushed into her and she dropped her head forward, her breath audibly catching as he sank home.  Immediately the heat in her belly began to build, worsening with each thrust.                

Loki groaned as he watched his cock sink in with each thrust, admiring Petra’s backside as she squirmed beneath him.  She took his torment so well that he almost felt bad for teasing her so.  Almost.  His hips pumped slowly, letting the girl feel every individual groove and ridge on his cock as he pushed in and pulled out of her slick cunt.  After several minutes of torture, the poor thing was shaking beneath him, her face buried in her hands as she shuddered each time her body shook with the force of his momentum.  He could feel her spasming involuntarily, which made him increase his pace.  It wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge.              

Smacking her ass with a satisfied grunt, he reared back and slammed his hips against her rear, letting his head fall back as he reveled in her heat.  Drawing out once more, he repeated the act until she was keening, begging him not to fuck her so hard.              

“I can’t-Ah!  I can’t stop if you do it like that,” she whimpered, her hips writhing to try and unseat him.              

With another swat to her bottom he chuckled, which was more emotion that he intended to give away, but watching her try to hold back her orgasm was entertaining, especially when he knew he’d win this game.              

Leaning forward, he pushed her shoulders down so she knelt with her ass in the air, giving him even more stability to fuck himself into her.

“Stop!” she cried.              

He ignored her plea.                

“Remember what I said, _skapning_.  If you come before I do, I’ll force so many orgasms on you that you won’t think of coming without my permission ever again.  I mean it.”              

When her entire body seized, he couldn’t hold back a groan.  She cried out, torn between pressing back against him and squirming away.  Her baser instincts won out as she gripped the bed sheets and willingly took her fucking.  Velvet walls rhythmically clamped down around his cock, making him dig his fingers painfully into her sides.  She was making enough noise that if he hadn’t ordered the bitch that had sworn at her to lead an impromptu trek into the forest, the entire camp would’ve heard her coming apart.              

Her orgasm coaxed his own, his fingers leaving black bruises as his hips as he hammered against her rear.  He shouted, falling forward over her and bracing himself on his forearms to keep from crushing the fragile elf.  Both gasped for air, Petra’s body shaking beneath his as she came down.              

“I won’t forget your disobedience.  You’re fortunate I was able to come so quickly after you.”              

He pulled out and flipped her over, dragging a pillow beneath her rear so her pelvis tipped upwards.              

“You’ll stay like this for now.  I’ll fetch you when enough time has passed for my seed to take root.”              

With a sleepy, wary sigh, Petra ignored the sticky slick between her legs and nodded, almost immediately drifting off into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of a wrathful Loki. 

 

Later that night, Loki sank his teeth into a hindquarter of venison, tearing meat from bone as he studied Petra.  She was speaking with the woman who had hosted her the two nights ago, talking animatedly and using her hands to bridge the language gap.  The aloof woman was solemn, but open as Petra tried to charm her.  She was… _sweet_ for a Dark Elf, he supposed.  Too kind to survive for long on Jötunheim.  Weak, but likeable.

A gaggle of young Jötnar sat with the women, curiously watching the foreigner speak.  When a chuckle sounded from the group, Loki felt his own lips curve slightly.  It was good that his _skapning_ got along with his people.  If they didn’t accept her, they wouldn’t accept her child.  Their child.

It had been ages since he’d had a baby.  His last child, Leif had been grown and living with in the castle when a fever from Niffleheim had taken him.  A fist wrapped around his heart as he reminisced, quickly swallowing down emotion. 

It had been decades since Leif had been young.  He vaguely recalled the warmth of holding his little one, the kind of warmth that didn’t hurt him.  Just a radiating glow that came from inside when looking down into the eyes his child.

Wiping at his face in frustration, he shook himself out of his sorrow and stood.

“Petra, come.”

Her eyes flashed across the fire.  He knew she didn’t appreciate being ordered around like an animal, which was why he did it.  As long as she felt uncomfortable, she’d remain submissive and malleable.  Fondness and familiarity only brought defiance and independent thought, which his elf would not be allowed.

She rose and stalked to his side as he motioned for her to follow him and led her into his tent for the night.  And another round of breeding.

 

Three days later, they had tried to conceive five more times since their second coupling.  Petra was incapable of walking without a slight limp.  The Jötnar king was well equipped and she’d been celibate for some time prior to slipping into his bed.  The poor girl was sore, even when at rest.

She sat alone near a cooking fire, picking at the remains of that night’s meal.

Boots ground down on fresh snow behind her.  Wary of those that disliked her, Petra twisted.

Loki nodded at her and dropped to the ground beside her feet.  He exhaled, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Tomorrow, we go home.”

Petra swallowed a gulp of ale.  She’d learned to enjoy the burn it ignited in her belly.  “Home?”

When instead of answering she caught Loki eying her cup greedily, Petra sighed and handed it to him.  He nodded, wiping his mouth after taking a draw.  “Home to Utgard.  To the capital.  We have enough meat to fill our stores for winter.”

She cocked her head, “For winter?  It’s always winter here.”

His smile wasn’t kind, more mocking.  “My naïve little _skapning_.  This is our autumn season.  Actual winter you have yet to experience.  If you thought you knew cold… Even Jötnar die during the deep freeze.”

She shuddered and hauled her cloak closer around her shoulders, smoothing her hair beneath the hood.  A shiver trembled through her and she realized Loki was watching her.  She avoided his gaze, plucking at the hem of her simple, but warm, dress.

It was Loki that broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“They like you more than I expected.”

With a mild pout, Petra’s head snapped up.

“Do I thank you for something like that?”

Loki’s mouth twitched and he shook his head, the beads in his hair clinking softly.  “Were you another, perhaps.  But not you.  Not right now.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged a shoulder, leaning back against the log she sat on.

"I’m inclined to give you liberties I deny most.  A perk of sharing my bed, I suppose.”

Petra rolled her eyes and drained her mug.  “I’m so fortunate,” slipped out before she could stop it.

 His eyes narrowed, but there was a gleam of mirth in his gaze.  “Caution, _skapning_.  Just because I fuck you doesn’t mean I won’t punish you.”

 Cheeks stained dark crimson, she swallowed hard and nodded, staring at her hands.  Sometimes her thoughts escaped her mouth before she could deem them worthy or not.  With a tired sigh, Loki pushed up from the ground.

"Finish all of that,” he pointed at her bowl of half eaten stew.

"Oh, I’m done—.”

"You’re growing my baby.  You’ll finish it.”

Pursing her lips to keep more unbidden words from sneaking out, she nodded curtly and dipped her spoon back into the broth and brought it to her mouth.

“I’m eating, see?”  She held up her bowl.

“Good girl.  Come to my tent when you’re finished.”

Without another word he stalked off, leaving her alone muttering about “my” versus “our” tent.

 

The next morning wasn’t a pleasant one.  Petra had started out on her own mare, a dwarf compared to the rest of the animals the Jötnar rode.  They’d bred Fjord horses to be taller and stronger than their Midgardian counterparts, and the easy-going beasts served them well.  Petra’s horse was pleasant enough, but her sensitive lady bits pressing against the hard leather was agonizing.  She’d endured the discomfort in camp without so much as a whimper of pain, even when she and Loki had sex.  But the movement of the horse’s gait combined with the unforgiving saddle was reinforcing just how hard Loki had taken her during their time together.

Mortified at her own weakness, but so uncomfortable she couldn’t stand it, she called to Loki.  He turned on his horse and raised a brow, motioning her forward.

“What is it?”

“I can’t-Um, I can’t ride like this,” she whispered.

He stared at her in confusion, irritably gesturing for her to elaborate.

“It hurts.  I’m too sore to straddle the saddle.”

A faint look of male pride crossed his features.  With a smirk, he held up his hand, halting the caravan.  Speaking with one of his men, Loki procured a plush pillow from one of the traveling chests.  Setting the soft material in front of him, he scooted back in his saddle and beckoned Petra.

“Come here.”

Confused, she dismounted and ambled to his side.  When he held out a hand, clearly intent on swinging her up onto his horse, she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Just give me the pillow?  Please.  You’re already making a bigger deal out of this than it should be.  Now the entire camp practically knows more about my nether region than I do.”

“No.  The pillow will make you less stable.  You’ll need me for support.”

Petra hesitated.  He was right.  And she wasn’t a good rider to begin with.  The last thing she wanted was to look weak in front of his people, which was exactly what she was doing, but she couldn’t handle the pain for the rest of the trip.

Sighing, she took his hand and he pulled her onto his horse, settling her in front of him.  His mount was several hands taller than hers and in a panic, she fumbled for a handful of the horse’s mane.  Loki made a frustrated growl and looped his arm around her middle, hauling her against his chest.  She took a moment to settle, but eventually relaxed against him.  Through her cloak she felt him go from frozen to mild.  Squirming in his lap, she looked over her shoulder.

“Did you just change temperature?”

Between the unstable cushion of the pillow, the horse’s bumpy steps and her squirming, Petra almost lost her balance.

 _"Tåpelig jente,”_ he muttered as he tugged her back to his chest.              

“Did you call me stupid?”              

He let out a breathy chuckle against her ear.  “Perhaps a variation of it.”              

Huffing, she fought the urge to cross her arms lest she fall.              

“But really, did you get warmer?”              

“The Jötnar are adaptable, to an extent.  And I won’t have my half-elven child frozen before he reaches his home.”              

That was fair.  With a tired sigh she leaned back, letting her head rest on his shoulder.  She could feel Loki stiffen, but couldn’t see the surprise in his eyes, which was for the best.  He needed to stay collected around the girl.              

Confident that his horse knew the way home, he let his mind wander as he glanced at her hands.  Picking up her wrist, he cradled her hand in his, tilting it back and forth to get a good look at her palm and fingertips.

“You’re not changing color,” he stated.

Baffled, Petra nodded, “You’re right, I’m not.”

“Do elves not change color once they’ve conceived?  The extremities of Jötnar women become slightly violet.”

 “No, we don’t change color.  We get sick and crave odd foods.  Sometimes elves get more violent and bloodthirsty than normal.  Some just desire red meat.”

“Interesting.”  A beat of silence passed.  “You’re sure they don’t change color?”

She snorted.  “Yes, I’m sure.”

He seemed unsatisfied with her answer, but let it go.

“We’ll get you odd foods and red meat.  You’ll want for nothing.”

“I know,” she murmured with a small smile.

Barbarian king or no, Petra felt safe with him.  He’d take care of them.

 

As they drew near the castle, Petra stared in awe at their surroundings.  The thickets turned into snowy open land, the terrain turning mountainous.  There was a well worn trail of packed snow for the horses to follow that grew narrow enough that they were forced to go single file. 

Through a pass, Petra saw a giant iron gate looming at least twenty feet high.  Having spent the majority of the ride leaning on Loki, she sat up, more alert now that they were closer.  As they closed in on the gate, a pair of watchmen let the hunting party through, bowing to their king as he passed. 

Loki mostly ignored them, focused on getting his _skapning_ home.  The road was dangerous, even inside the city, no matter how fierce a warrior he was.  He’d not have his chance at furthering his species killed or stolen by some true savage.

Petra twisted in the saddle in order to look at the simple houses sprinkled on either side of the widening road, all with chimneys puffing dark smoke.  It was much quainter than she’d expected.  She breathed a sigh of relief at having reached (more or less) civilization once again.


	4. Imagine It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time we learned our lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did add to the tags. This is VERY non-con and rather torturous. Just a heads up. I hope it's still enjoyable. And the end is questionable if you're squeamish. Sorry, kinda not sorry. It's important.
> 
> Horns and Co™ © [Misreall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall).

Petra rolled sleepily onto her side and laid her head on the pillow next to Loki’s.  The man was much easier to deal with when unconscious.  He’d been pushy about the baby ever since they returned to Utgard.  Eat this, don’t lift that, sit down, go rest.  Now he was finally quiet, and a sleeping Loki was a pleasant Loki.

Even in sleep his brow furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth forming a small frown.  She brushed her fingertips against his forehead, intent on erasing the lines from his face.  Her skin connected with his for two seconds before a hand clapped around her wrist.  Her stomach dropped as Loki’s eyes snapped open, his cold gaze murderous.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry, I just—.”

“You just what?  Thought it would be entertaining to test the King’s reflexes?  _Dum jente,”_ he growled.

Tugging her wrist, Petra glared, her heart still pounding from adrenaline.

"Stop calling me names.”

“I’m not calling you names.”  He dragged his other hand from beneath the pillow, revealing a six-inch dagger.  He dangled it in front of her face.  “I’m stating what you are.  You’re fortunate I remembered it was you in my bed.  Were I any less sharp, this would be embedded in your eye.”

 Petra flushed and swallowed hard, bowing her head.

"I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies, just don’t be foolish.”

Petra bristled, successfully tugging her wrist from his grasp and flipping over to face the wall.  She heard him stash the knife beneath his pillow and waited for him lie down.  When he continued bustling beneath the sheets she glanced over her shoulder to find him pulling two coils of rope from beneath the bed.  That combined with his visibly awakening cock prompted her to bolt, practically falling out of bed in her eagerness to get away.

“No.”

Loki’s brows rose innocently.  “No, what?”

“Just no.  Whatever you’re doing, stop.”

“You speak as though you have control of this situation.  Have you forgotten you owe me a debt for coming without permission?  I keep my promises, _skapning._ You’ll learn to listen to me.”

"I’m still sore from earlier,” she grumbled, her cheeks burning as she squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to protect her tender bits.

Ignoring her response, Loki crept near the headboard and looped each length of rope around either post of the bedframe.  He tugged, and once satisfied they’d hold, motioned for Petra to climb back on the bed.  She shook her head.

“I said no.”

"Do you so easily forget the circumstances under which you’re here?”

“I’m doing my part of our bargain.  We have a lot of sex.  You’ve probably gotten me pregnant.  I didn’t agree to anything having to do with ropes.”

His maroon eyes glittered as he shook his head.  “You agreed to let me breed you.  Who’s to say I’m not about to do that?”

Lips pinched, she wrapped her arms around her naked body.  “You can breed me without restraining me.”

 “I told you what we do with Jötunn women that resist.  Do you remember?”

Of course she remembered.  They were tied down.  He’d threatened to do the same to her their first time together.

“I’m not resisting… your use of me.  And I’m not Jötunn.”

“You’re right, you’re not Jötunn.”

He crawled forward on the bed and slung his legs over the side.  Spreading them, the conversation having obviously aroused him, he yanked her between his thighs by her wrist.  Hesitantly she rested her hands on the tops of his upper legs, freezing when he leaned forward, his hardening cock pressing against her belly.

"If you were Jötunn, you’d have a better concept of your status,” he murmured against her ear.

Petra whined softly, shaking her head as she tried to back away.  Even though she was fairly certain the Jötnar didn’t kiss, she couldn’t think as well with his mouth so close to hers.  He sank his fingers into her hair, tangling them in the silver strands until she stopped moving.

“Even as a Dark Elf your place is on your knees before me.  I’ve put you in it many times.”

She pushed against his chest with a scowl, “I know my place.  I willingly assume it whenever you want me.”

He studied her, his even breaths softly expelling hot, moist air against her hair.

“This is true.”  Loki tilted his head, thoughtfully tracing her collarbone with cool fingertips.  “Perhaps I don’t need to tie you down for what I have planned.”

Shooting her a wicked smirk, he retreated on the bed, arranging the pillows so he could sit comfortably against the headboard.  Long legs splayed wide open, he shamelessly revealed his growing erection.  Loki gave it a few strokes and her brows rose as it hardened further.  She’d never seen his impressive cock so close.

Loki reached for her, “Come to me.”

Stomach flipping, Petra eyed the still-present ropes and warily climbed on the bed.   She inched forward, perching on her knees at his side.  With a sigh, he lazily pumped his fist over his length.

“In my lap, _skapning._ ”

"I don’t want to…,” she waved her hand at his half hard cock, “hurt you.”

His sharp canines glistened as he smiled.  “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

With a huff, she delicately crept into his lap, carefully positioning herself between his spread legs.  Loki hummed, bending his knees as he leaned forward to arrange her with her back against his chest. 

She stiffened as his fingers twined in her hair again, experimentally weaving through the platinum strands.  With a shiver, she watched him out of the corner of her eye.  He looked curious, almost innocent as he investigated her hair, so different from the stark ebony of the Jötnar.  It was an act more intimate than he realized and it made her stomach flutter in the most unseemly manner.

 Distress spiking, Petra broke the silence.  “Why are we sitting like this?”

“Relax.”

 She could feel the timbre of his voice rumble in his chest as she shifted uneasily.

“I’m trying,” she snipped.

“Careful, _skapning_.  This isn’t meant to be comfortable.”

Just as she was forming a response, his chilled fingers stroked down her chest and sides to trace along the skin of her inner thighs.  Her breath hitched and without thinking, her knees fell open.  Pursed lips curving into a smile he cupped her mound, Loki pet his hand against the soft flesh.  When she squirmed, he released a grunt at the friction created between her back and his cock.  His fingers tightened, nails pressing into her delicate skin in warning.

“Be still,” he said against her jaw.  With his free hand, he wrapped his fingers around her neck, forcing her to look up and back at him as he peered down at her.  “You asked why we’re sitting like this.  We’re sitting like this so I can touch you without interruption.  In this position, you can’t crawl away from me, you can’t run.  You can’t fight me.  Perhaps you may try to block me with your hands, but you’re easily subdued and therefore I’m not concerned.”

Flexing his fingers to remind her of his strength, Loki released her throat and hummed against her neck.  “You owe me something and I’m intent on taking it.”  Hand still nestled over her mons, he carefully slid his middle finger inside her entrance.  Over her shoulder he watched, captivated, as it sank in.  Petra could feel the firm ridges of his cock length swelling against her back. 

Her body clenched as she processed exactly what he said.

"I owe you use of my body, and that’s it.  I’m a vessel, not a toy,” she said, turning her face to the side so he could see her speak.

His warm breath ghosted over her jaw as he chuckled, “You became my toy the second you came without permission.  I’m now obligated to teach you self-control.  You’re like a child, really.”

White brows that furrowed in confusion eventually relaxed as he smoothed the wetness gathered at her entrance over her clit.  He began moving his fingers in slow, tight circles and she groaned, pussy pulsing. 

She shifted in distracted irritation as her thinking grew foggy, hampered by the heat accumulating in her lower belly.  All she could contemplate was that he was supposed to be a beast, not her seducer.

Loki licked her neck and the elf let out a soft keening noise, her head thumping back against his shoulder.  He varied the pressure of his finger, dragging the tip across her swollen bud with the lightest of pressures, then firmly rubbing it.  Her chest rose and fell swiftly as she tried to keep her eyes open, the spine-tingling sensations he was forcing her lids to lower.

He continued, dipping his finger back inside her swollen passage to gather more arousal and in an attempt to ground herself, she clutched his forearms.

Drunk on lust, her words were slightly slurred.  “This is because-because I couldn’t stop from orgasming?”  Swallowing hard, she squeezed her already-closed eyes in concentration.  “That’s the self-control you’re talking about?”

Loki nipped at the tender skin of her neck.  “Mhm.”  Casually he increased the speed at which he tormented her clit, making her toes curl.  “You can’t keep yourself from reaching your peak.  Do you know you’re unique in this occurrence, _skapning?”_

Breath coming in tiny pants, she shook her head.  His lips curved into a smile against the shell of her ear.

 “I’ll have you know bringing Jötnar women to completion is burdensome.  When we breed, the males orgasm and typically leave.  It’s expected that the females also orgasm for the sake of aiding in conception, but they’re left to do so on their own,” he whispered against her neck.  “You?  You I can’t keep from coming, my disobedient little elven bitch.”  He bit the lobe of her ear and Petra failed at subduing a whine.  She felt his cock jerk behind her at the noise, which only made her hips pump forward against his hand.

“It’s not-I’m not…,” she sighed as his dexterous fingers massaged her tender bundle of nerves.  Pressure built in her lower abdomen, a winding spring desperately close to releasing.  As she faded from reality, a whimper escaped from between her lips and her back arched, thrusting her pelvis against his palm.  When he chuckled at her, she ignored him, until he spoke.

“You’re rutting against my hand like a common whore,” he husked.

His words felt like they’d slapped her across the face.  Men on Svartalfheim had never been overly respectful to her, but they’d never accused her of being a whore.  Trying to elbow him in the ribs, she began to turn when two of his fingers slid inside her, made easy by the accumulated wetness.

“Shhh, _skapning,”_ he soothed.

Slowly his fingers flexed.  Loki curled them, stroking the tips against a swollen patch inside her.  Petra groaned in his lap, nails biting into the blue skin of his arms as she tried to reason with herself.  Nothing good could come from giving him what he wanted, but the notion quickly vacated her mind.  Failing at thought in general, the coil of electric heat only wound tighter, coaxing her hips into rocking against his hand.

“If you’re…,” she tried to focus, words evading her, “If you’re teaching me self-control, why does it feel good?”

Loki’s breath brushed against her hair as he chuckled.  “You’ll see.”

He made a beckoning motion, the pads of his fingertips brushing against the supremely sensitive area inside her.  She gasped, bucking hard against his hand.  He pumped his fingers swiftly, giving her no time between thrusts for her to gather her thoughts.  Mind hazy, she let her eyes slip closed as she relished in the intoxicating feeling of his fingers inside her.  When the thumb of his opposite hand grazed her clit, she cried out.  As he started rubbing while simultaneously plunging inside her, he spoke lowly.

“Come, _skapning._ ”

Petra’s brows furrowed and she let out a choked whimper.  He’d forbidden her to orgasm so many times prior, knowing she’d fail.  Now that he was coaxing her into it, it felt wrong.  Like a trick. 

He curled his fingers, pressing firmly and making her see stars as he overwhelmed her with sensation.  The wet noises of him pumping into her competed for her attention as he growled.

“Now, Petra.”

Her name on his lips was her end.  Such a cold man preying on her sense of significance by using her name sent her over the edge, a sharp cry flying from her lips.  As her walls contracted a gush of moisture released, flooding his hand as he continued to rhythmically press against the soft tissue just inside her channel.

It took her a moment to come down, her chest heaving as she collapsed against him.  He gave her a minute to recuperate, but after that pulled his fingers from her cunt, dripping with slick, and pressed them back over her clit.  Her hips jerked and she yelped, writhing to move from beneath his hand.  Her cunt twitched, her flaming nub too sensitive for contact. 

“Ow!”

“Shhh, _skapning_.  You’ll only make it worse.”

Confused, she tried to turn but he used his free hand to stabilize her. Loki disregarded her wriggling and clamped his fingers down into her hip, using his iron grip to hold her still.  Her clit burned, heavily overstimulated.

“Stop!”

Ignoring her, he increased the pressure and started drawing tiny circles around her pearl.  As she shrieked and rocked forward to leave his lap he regarded her silently, his eyes flicking between hers as she looked back at him in desperation.  With an air of tranquility that confounded her, his fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her side, leaving individual bruises as he dragged her back down.

“You’re going to learn to listen to me.  No more of this haphazard orgasming at your own pleasure.  What we are doing is serious and you will listen to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, distractedly clawing at his forearms as he assaulted her bundle of nerves.

“I know you are.  But if I don’t teach you, you won’t learn.”

His nimble finger rubbed against her swollen nub in a way that made her pelvis lift from his lap.  It still hurt, but that dizzying feeling of pleasure now accompanied the sensation.

She let out a guttural cry as her walls contracted, which spurred on Loki’s actions.  She looked down in a daze, his hand moving so rapidly it blurred.   The feeling of her impending orgasm began to overwhelm and she squeezed her eyes shut, coming with an aggravated scream.

Relentlessly, Loki continued assaulting her clit.  She squealed, writhing to unseat his hand.  He gave her dribbling pussy a slap and she stilled with a stunned yelp.  Petra panted heavily, still trying to process exactly what was going on.  She’d never considered the forcing of orgasms before. 

Cutting off her train of thought, Loki’s hand wandered, this time his fingers sliding back inside her.  It didn’t hurt like when he’d rubbed her clit just after orgasming, but she was sensitive enough that it was still uncomfortable.  His fingers fucked her ruthlessly, absurd sloshing noises echoing in his barren chambers.  Whimpering in confused frustration, she tried to push his hands away. 

Loki issued another strike to her pussy, making her jolt in surprise.  Gathering her wrists in his free hand, he pinned them against her chest, all the while pumping his fingers inside her cunt.

“Continue, _skapning._ ”

She shook, her entire body on overdrive as he coaxed her into things for which she denied it permission.  What she wanted didn’t matter.  With a tortured sob, she obeyed as he worked her through another orgasm.  Fire licked up her spine and for one blissful moment, her mind went blank as she seized in his lap, the walls of her pussy greedily sucking at his fingers. 

Tears leaked from her eyes and she tried to wrestle her hands free to wipe at her face, but he easily held her in place.  His other hand remained busy, thrusting into her brutally.  He twisted his fingers, smirking as her hips lurched forward for more attention. 

Breaths coming in heaving gasps and no longer able to support herself, Petra leaned on Loki.  She weakly tried to close her thighs, and screamed when he issued five rapid smacks to her red, swollen slit.

“Again,” he commanded.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” she panted.  “You can stop!”

“Again,” was his cold reply.

Offhandedly she fumed at how calm he sounded, as if he were instructing a group of practicing archers instead of ripping orgasm after orgasm from her.  The thought quickly evaporated as his lips suctioned around her earlobe.  Without thinking she pressed the side of her face against his mouth, eager for more attention even as he attacked her opening. 

A few tears dribble down her cheek as she tried to reason with him.

“I’ll stop, I will.  I’ll stop coming when you tell me to,” she whimpered.

Loki’s hand slowed, but his fingers continued to flex against that enflamed patch of flesh hidden inside her.  The king considered her for a moment:  Eyes glassy, hair tousled and cheeks tinged with crimson.  He released her wrists, which dropped limply to her sides.

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you, _skapning._ ”

More tears threatened to pour from her eyes as she held back a sob.

“Shhh, I said I don’t believe you, not that I won’t stop.  One more, then your lesson will be over.”

Petra’s body went boneless with relief, and had he not been holding her so securely she would’ve wilted in his lap.  His fingers began caressing her insides again and she vaguely realized she could feel the grooves and ridges on his agile digits.

As his fingers quickened, shockwaves throbbed inside her, making her clench around his fingers.  She mewled, her hand climbing up his neck and burying itself in his hair as she braced herself for the euphoric disorder he was about to inflict.

Loki’s fingers rubbed her just right and she let out a scream, her own fingers clamping around one of his horns.  He stiffened, releasing a guttural groan and as she convulsed in his lap, she felt liquid warmth splash against her back. 

Delirious and now covered in his come, she flopped back against him, completely spent.  They both wheezed, bodies desperate for air as they came down.  Finally, he spoke, his voice resentful.

“That is not how I like to spend my seed.  You’ll not touch my horns again.  You just wasted a valuable opportunity.  Were I not so taxed from your lesson, I’d scoop my come from your skin and push it inside you.”

Petra nodded dumbly, her lower body alerting her of the abuse it had received.  Her entire center ached, clit to sensitive to withstand closing her thighs. 

With an irritated huff, he dumped her from his lap and strode to the washroom.  Too fatigued to follow, she managed to crawl to the dry side of the bed and collapsed in exhaustion, quickly losing consciousness.

 

She woke alone to a female Jötunn clothed in a simple dress prodding her.

“Get up, elf.  It smells of sex in here, I’m to change the sheets.”

Petra glared with all her might at the woman, but rolled out of the bed.  She stumbled, sorer than she anticipated.  She supposed Loki had fucked her rather severely.  Eventually she made it to the bathroom, where she found the tub filled with steaming water.  Bracing against the wall, she walked herself down the stone steps and into the bath.  The water soothed her aching muscles, coaxing a tired groan.  Just as she was about to dip beneath the surface, she caught sight of a red bloom in the water.  Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she realized the source, and she dropped her head back against the ledge of the tub in defeat.

 

Three knocks sounded as Loki sat among his advisors, speaking rapidly in their language.

All silent, they looked to their king.  The list of those who dared interrupt him while with his counsel was quite short.

_“Tast inn.”_

 When the door clicked closed behind Petra, the three women and two men looked up from the document they had been studying.  Loki frowned.  She looked pale, her skin more gray than blue and her lips pallid.  Loki dismissed his cabinet without a second thought.

“You’re all excused.”

They bowed before filing out of the room while Petra fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress in the entrance. 

When she didn’t look at him, Loki drummed his fingers on the table.  “Come in.  What is it?  Is something wrong with the baby?

Petra wandered in slowly, not meeting his gaze.  She lung one leg over the other, chewing at her lip.

“I… I got my period.  I’m not pregnant.”

She was met with silence and fleetingly glanced up.  The king stood with his lips pursed, clasping his wrist behind him in the opposite hand.  He watched her, eyes flicking back and forth from her belly to her face.

Her stomach rolled.  She knew he wouldn’t be pleased, but his stillness was unnerving.  What if he only allowed her the one chance?

“We’ll continue copulating.  Elves bleed monthly?”

Petra nodded, trying to stand tall. 

“Very well.”

When he examined her without saying a word, only nodding, her eyes prickled with relief that he wasn’t throwing her out... and something else she couldn’t identify.  Guilt, perhaps?  She shook the feeling off and snuck another glance at him.   Though his solemn face was nearly emotionless, she knew the way his brows furrowed signified frustration.  Her stomach twisted but she ignored it.  It wouldn’t make sense that disappointing him hurt.  She barely knew him.  Elves weren’t supposed to feel, anyway.


	5. Insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time by the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning: A pair of geese meet their end about a quarter of the way through. It's quick.
> 
> Horns and Co™ © [Misreall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall).

Staring out over the arctic sea, Petra sighed as she waited to be set free.  Ever since their arrival to Utgard she’d been cooped up in Loki’s quarters and was getting stir crazy.  Today she’d been promised not only freedom from Loki’s rooms, but an outing. 

She watched a giant Albatross dive repeatedly, resurfacing each time with a beak full of fish.  The raging waves that crashed against the mountainous cliffs made her shift uncomfortably, despite the distance. 

Prior to being dumped on Jötunheim, she’d never seen a the sea.  Svartalfheim had oceans, of course, but she’d never been to the coast. 

Petra jerked out of her thoughts when a raspy voice called from the doorway.

"Lady, are you ready?”

The Jötnar struggled to pronounce ‘P’s’.  ‘Lady’ was easier to say than ‘Petra,’ and most of those in service to Loki defaulted to the easier moniker.  With a wary glance at the tumultuous water, she hauled her cloak around her shoulders.   “Coming!”

Stuffing her bare feet into clunky fur-lined boots, the elf trudged from her personal room in Loki’s chambers towards the hollering voice.

 

A flock of Jötnar women from the hunting camp, accompanied by Loki’s lead advisor, Marit, herded Petra from the castle down near the harbor, steering her on foot as they wandered into the city market.  The staggering space was packed with bodies and goods.  Stalls crammed with tools, clothing and animals spattered the rocky seashore, creating thin alleys for customers to walk through.  The group waded into the chaos, the sounds of bartering and interaction prompting Petra to uncomfortably cross her arms.  The livelihood of the market outweighed that of the hunting camp.  The shouts and calls of these giants were spirited compared to the quiet environment of the base where she first encountered the Jötnar.

As they neared the shore, cluttered with fishermen and women tethering their boats and gutting their catch on the docks, Petra wrinkled her nose.

“What’s that stench?”. 

Marit squinted at the elf, sniffing the air.  “Oh, that?  It’s fish, Lady.  You’ve never smelled it before?”

Petra made a face, “Never.  It’s awful.”

Marit shrugged a shoulder, “You get used to it.”

The Dökkálfr grimaced with a nod, making a mental note to avoid touching anything that came from the sea. 

The noise faded as they drew near the coastline, the shouts and chatter dissipating into the air and Petra’s muscles unclenched, her arms dropping loosely to her sides as she relaxed.

The women surrounding her stayed occupied.  One traded sea glass for a loaf of bread while Marit haggled with a shop owner over two enormous snow geese.  Purchase made, the advisor shoved the birds at a spluttering Petra as she stalked off to another stall stocked with nets and hooks.  She returned a moment later with a box the size of her hand.

“My mate, he fishes,” she explained, holding up the container.

Wrestling with the poultry, Petra managed a nod, trotting to keep up with Marit as she bustled off to the next shop along the shore.

 

By the time they made their way back to the inland market, word that the Dark Elf had come out of concealment had spread.  Conversations halted mid-sentence as Petra’s group passed, both speakers rendered speechless by the exotic foreigner.  Her white hair and dark blue-gray skin stuck out against the purer indigo flesh of the giants. 

The shift of attention was palpable, leaving Petra feeling horribly vulnerable.  She clutched the geese to her chest as each pair of red eyes locked onto her. 

Recovering from their initial shock, most villagers leaned in to whisper in a frenzy.  Others merely glared, and Petra heard a few utterances of the word ‘ _hore’_ which she assumed had the same meaning as it did in the common language.  It appeared as though she had a reputation already. 

As hostility escalated, Petra stepped closer to Marit, who was busy staring down some especially aggressive townspeople.  Petra’s gaze kept flitting to either side of the alleys, afraid of launched rotten food or worse coming her way.  Her companions stayed close, their hands wrapped around the axes and daggers on their belts in warning to those they passed.

The warmth of the birds under her arms was grounding as they walked into the village, her steps as quick as her clumsy boots allowed.  Petra jerked when a cool hand grasped her upper arm, sighing in relief to find Marit close to her side.

“We’re almost to town.  Just a little while longer,” she reassured the elf.

Pursing her lips, Petra mumbled something affirming and hustled to keep up with the group.

 

The other women returned with their purchases to their respective homes as Marit led Petra to her personal dwelling.  Without a word Marit plucked one white goose from the other woman’s arms and snapped it’s neck.

Petra cried out at the woman’s brutality.  She staggered backwards.  “You killed it!”   She held the other honking bird to her chest.

Marit blinked.  “Of course I killed it.  It’s dinner.  Give me the other.”

Stunned, the elf took another step back, shaking her head.

Fingers still wrapped around the dead goose’s neck, Marit planted her fists on her hips and exhaled, eyes narrowed.  “Fine.  Jens is not going to like you if his lunch is mostly broth tomorrow.”

With a sigh of defeat, Petra cradled the living bird, idly stroking the feathers of its wing.  She thrust it toward Marit, scowling and clapping her hands over her ears to escape the crunching sound as Marit wrung it’s neck.  Stomach rolling, she let her hands drop to her sides after the bird went limp.

Marit slung each lifeless bird over her shoulder.

“I will pluck them.  I’ll go outside for your sake.  I’m being very hospitable.” 

Marit nodded at the dwindling flames illuminating a small fireplace near the center of the house.  “Tend to the fire, then fetch a pot of snow to melt for stew.  I’ll be back soon.”

The Jötunn brusquely vacated the home, leaving Petra alone and slightly flustered. 

“Norns,” she grumbled, ambling to the fireplace and plopping a few logs on top of the smoldering embers.  Despite not knowing what she was doing, she prodded at the fire with a stoker as she’d seen others do, emitting a contented hum at the heat radiating from the pit.

Fire roaring, Petra stood on her tiptoes to unhook a large pot dangling from a hanging rack.  There were only two to choose from, and she grabbed the larger.  The Jötnar lived simpler than the Dökkálfar.  It was nice, in a way.  Fewer trivial possessions, less desire for elaborate organizational schemes and displays.  There were no servants scurrying about, at least not in town, making beds with obnoxiously ornate frames and clanging pots and pans together as they worked.  Petra wasn’t used to labor like this, if one could consider it that, but found she didn’t mind. 

Spotting a nearby snowbank, she lugged the pot over and scooped handfuls of snow into it.  Hauling it back inside was a much more physical endeavor, but she managed. 

When Marit returned, Petra averted her gaze, mindful of the now-dead creatures swinging from her arms that she’d carried living not long ago.  Slinging the two birds onto the kitchen table, Marit set about gathering ingredients.  From small potted plants she cut herbs and gathered onions from a basket near the wash basin.  Dropping the vegetables in front of Petra along with a knife, Marit continued shuffling about.

“Chop those,” she called from the fireplace.

Petra stared with wide eyes at the food in front of her.  “How do you have fresh vegetables?”

“We grow them.”

Petra frowned, shaking her head.  “I mean how… where did you grow them?  Isn’t the ground frozen?”

Marit scoffed and motioned with her fire poker through the window.  “Of course the ground is frozen.  _Dum jente_ ,” she grunted, turning back to the flames.

Still confounded, Petra started cutting the herbs.  “The elements should kill anything that attempted to take root.  You have potted herbs, but no garden in here.  And where did you get soil?”

 “There are geothermal pools that heat the earth to appropriate farming temperatures.  They’re near the cirque opposite of the way you arrived.  I’ll show you soon.  We’ll need more supplies.”

Petra blinked.  Marit said things so plainly she felt dumb for even asking.  Of course there was arable land.  Of course they farmed.  What else would their animals eat?  How else would they survive?

Marit interrupted Petra’s thoughts by waggling a spoon in her direction.

“Boil the snow, Lady.”

The lines on Petra’s face relaxed as she grew distracted.  The elf poked at the melting snow, stirring idly as her mind returned to her experience near the shore.

 “Why was everyone so angry at me today?  Everyone in the market?”

Marit didn’t look up from her work at the table, but she did stop fussing with the geese to wipe her hands.  “Because you’re not Jötnar, yet you have value to the king,”  The giant shrugged a shoulder and rubbed her brow with a forearm.  “Loki is a good, but aloof and distant ruler.  They’re envious that a foreigner has his attention.”

“I-I’m not sure I’d say I’m of value to him.  I might hold some mild importance in regards to a strategic plan, but not value.”

Marit glanced up, raising a brow critically.  “Here, that’s the definition of having value.”

Petra muttered under her breath about value being something typically demonstrated through appreciation before moving on.  “The hunting camp wasn’t like this.  People-Well, I’m not sure they liked me, but they tolerated me.”

“I don’t think all Jötnar hate you.  Just the villagers.”

Sagging, Petra grimaced as Marit began cutting the meat into pieces.  “Why am I so offensive to those in town but acceptable to the hunters?”

            “The people…,” Marit motioned with her knife at the village through the window, “They have known the struggle of hunger and infertility.  But they don’t search for a solution.  They want things the way they’ve always been, Frost Giant mated with Frost Giant.  A pure race.”

The advisor sighed, tilting her head as she collected the bits of goose.  “The hunters, they understand functionality, ingenuity.  Not hunting isn’t an option.  If one method fails, you try another.  It’s that simple.”

"So I’m just another way to behead a bilgesnipe,” Petra muttered.

 “Well-Yes, I suppose.”

Petra’s gut twisted as Marit reminded her of just how disposable she was.  She was a vessel to these people, and nothing more.

“Stir in the herbs,” Marit ordered.

Automatically Petra sprinkled the chopped pieces into the water, pulling back as Marit neared to deposit the goose meat.

“We’ll eat well tonight.  It’s not always that way, but things are good.  The animals are fat and stores full.”

Well, at least something was going right.

“Help me clean up,” Marit said, tossing a rag at Petra.  She caught it clumily, barely managing to wrangle it before wiping off the table.  Jötnar manners certainly differed from Dökkálfar.  Dinner with Marit and her mate would be interesting.

 

Later that evening, Petra found Loki lounging in his quarters with a book.  He looked up when she entered, blinked, then his eyes returned to the page.“Marit said she fed you,” he said.

Still growing accustomed to abrupt Jötnar manner of conversation, Petra was caught mildly off-guard.  “Um, yes.  She did.  We made stew.”

When he remained silent, she started towards her portion of Loki’s rooms.  They consisted of a small chamber with a simple bed and dresser.  Before she took three steps, Loki called out.

“I’m not finished.  Come here.”

Dropping the sack filled with a little pouch full of Jötnar coins and a few shells she’d found along the beach, she warily retraced her steps.

“Take off your cloak.”

She lacked the energy and motivation to argue.  Petra tugged her cloak off her shoulders, pausing to hang it on a hook near the doorway.  She could feel Loki’s eyes on her, and waited several beats before turning around.  As she’d predicted, he was staring at her. 

"You need to eat more.  You’re scrawny,” he mused.  He rested his chin on his fist.  “I wonder if you really are fit to carry my child?”

Taken aback, Petra raised her chin and widened her stance.  She needed to remain important.  Her life depended on it.  “I can do it.”

Loki smirked, which only served to irritate her.  “Let me see you.”

 “I-What?  I’m standing in front of you.”

"Take off your clothes.”

After a spit second of hesitation, she complied.  His being bossy when it came to sex wasn’t new.  Muttering to herself, Petra quickly shucked off her dress and boots, standing with her back to Loki.  She plodded to the bed with her arms wrapped across her chest, waiting for him to follow.  Glancing over her shoulder, her cheeks glowed as she saw him lazily untether his trousers and wrap his fist around his half-hard cock.  He cleared his throat and she realized she’d been staring.  Embarrassed, she lifted a leg to climb onto the high mattress, eager to put distance between them, however short lived, when he interrupted her.

“Stop.”

"What?”

“Face me.”

Her stomach fluttered as she rotated so her side faced Loki.  Crossing one leg over the other, she hugged her chest.  His eyes, usually narrowed in a frown or glare, were relaxed as he studied her.  Petra squirmed as they roamed over her body.  The king had never looked so appraisingly at her.  He’d only spent a moment evaluating her body their first time, and she shifted uneasily, looking at the floor.

“No.  Face me.”

The sharpness of his voice left no room for argument.  Clutching her chest, Petra swiveled until she was thoroughly in view.  Loki traced his lower lip with his index finger, humming as his eyes studied her dainty feet, moving up her calves and thighs until her crossed legs halted his examination.

“Stand up straight.”

“This isn’t… Are we not having sex?”

Loki tapped his lip as his brow arched.  “Stand up straight, Petra.”

Pursing her lips, she slowly parted her clenched thighs a fraction.

“Do as I say or I’ll position you myself.”

Her chest tightened as her blush worsened, spreading from her cheeks down her chest.  Arms flopping to her sides in defeat, she clenched her fists as she stood normally.  “Is this what you want?  To assess my body like I’m an animal?”

The corner of his mouth quirked as he rose and casually stalked forward.  She froze as he neared, gaze flitting to the ground.

“Look at me.”  His voice was ice.

Gaze blurred with uncertainty, she obeyed.  He smiled, a cruel expression that only served to unsettle her further.

“I want to see your shame, _skapning_.”

            Staring at him while he appraised her was worse than being called out for being half human in front of the Dökkálfar court.  The sexual aspect of this was utterly humiliating.  She felt lower than a whore.  At least most whores were purebred.  His eyes bored into her, coaxing goosebumps to break out across her skin.

            “What do you want?” she sighed.

            “I told you,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth still turned up.  “To see your shame.”

            Fingers trailing down her neck, Loki stopped over her fluttering pulse.

            “Do you think yourself… pretty?  Your face?  Your body?”

            Her stomach dropped.  She knew she wasn’t attractive by Jötnar standards.  She was too little, too frail.  Her hair and skin were the wrong shades and her height was pathetic.  Throat growing tight, she shook her head, eyes on her feet.

            The king tutted her.  “Look.  At.  Me.  I’ll not ask again.”

            Eyes stinging with tears, she glared up at him.

            “Ah, there’s that fire.”  Loki traced her clavicle.  “Never lose that, Petra,” he murmured.

            Fighting the urge to swat his hands away, she remained silent.  Her cheeks continued to burn with shame as his eyes roamed.  She desperately wanted to retreat to her room.  It was enough to know he didn’t find her attractive, but she felt utterly repulsive under his current scrutiny.

Inspection complete, Loki pointed to the bed.  Without a word, she followed the silent command and crawled onto the mattress, propping herself up on all fours.

Loki ran his hand along the length of her spine.  “As appealing as you look this way, I’m going to have you in another manner.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he flipped her onto her back.  She yelped, slamming her legs shut and crossing an arm over her heaving chest as they came face to face.

“This-this isn’t how we do this,” she stuttered.

“We do this however I want, and tonight, I want to see your face.  Unless, of course, you’d rather sit in my lap?  We both know how that turned out last time.”

A shiver crawled up her spine as she relaxed, her thighs spreading a few inches and her arm falling to the bed.  Gravity tilted her face to the side and she stared at the wall.  Loki briefly ignored her passivity in favor of running his fingers over the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

“I’ve only ever done this with my mate.”

He was mated.  With another woman.  When a horrified expression crossed her face, he laughed.  “Calm, _skapning._   She’s been gone for many years.”

Her tensed body relaxed with a sigh.  She couldn’t compete with another Jötunn woman for his attentions.  Replaying his words in her head, she frowned.

“You’ve only done what with your mate?”

Loki ignored her in lieu of wetting two fingers with his tongue and slipping them inside her.  Petra’s hips arched off the bed and she cried out in surprise.  He grinned down at her, using the broad palm of his free hand to pin her hips to the bed.  Heart pounding, she struggled.  The way he looked at her was terrifying.  He was feeding off her expressions and reactions, which she couldn’t hide as his began thrusting his fingers.  The position was far too vulnerable.

“This isn’t what I agreed to!”

“Relax.  You’ll only be able to think for another minute or so.”

Sputtering, she angrily smacked the mattress and laid back, staring at the vaulted ceiling. 

Loki withdrew his fingers and issued a smart slap to her pussy.

“What part of ‘look at me’ is difficult for you to understand?”

Face threatening to crumple, she bit down on her cheek and lowered her eyes to meet his.  He stared at her intently, watching every twinge of her brow and twitch of her lips.  It was enough to be exposed like this, but to know he didn’t find her attractive was simply humiliating.  She felt like a disappointing specimen.

“That’s better.” 

He withdrew his finger and took his cock in his hand, giving it a few pumps.  When she realized he intended to fuck her while on her back, Petra whimpered.  What had she done to warrant this kind of punishment?  She’d had sex like this before, but with meaningless partners that were likely picturing someone else as they fucked her.  Loki was not picturing someone else.  He was looking at her too hard, his gaze patronizing.

“Little _skapning_ ,” he sighed.

Glancing down, he ran the head of his length between her folds, stopping at her clit to rub against it.  The slippery precome and the pressure of his cock felt more heavenly than she’d like to admit, so she bit her cheek until it bled to keep from making noise.  She refused to validate him while he humiliated her. 

His voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“You’re just a little lost Dökkálfr without me, aren’t you?  I give you purpose.  Carrying my child is an honor.  Do you know how many Jötnar women would quite literally kill to be in your position?”

Forcing herself to go numb in an attempt to survive whatever verbal assault he was conducting, she shook her head.

“Many,” he said.

“Good for you.”

A laugh rumbled in his chest and he shook his head.

“Good for you, rather.”  He eased himself inside, groaning as her tight walls clutched his length.

Petra inhaled sharply, cursing under her breath.  He wasn’t finished demeaning her yet.  He had to knock her down even further, forcing pleasure on her.  Her pussy throbbed around him making him hiss as he slid against her walls.

Lazily he began pumping.  

“The night you arrived, I would’ve turned you away without a second thought.  I wouldn’t have felt guilt.  But you were stubborn and feisty and I wanted to have you.  So I made you mine.”

Petra pushed off the bed as best she could, brows raised in surprise.

“What?”

“Centuries ago I inhabited Asgard.  Traditional beauty isn’t lost on me.  You may not be a warrior, but you’re certainly a woman.”

Spluttering, Petra shook her head.  “I thought you found me repulsive—!”

With a sharp thrust, Loki knocked the air from her lungs.

“Quiet, _skapning_.  We’re not having a conversation.  I’m merely enlightening you.”

 Gasping for breath, she grunted as he hit that spot that made her see stars, damning her body for falling victim to him with such ease.  She kept her mouth shut, grinding her teeth in an effort to limit noises insisting to make themselves heard.

No longer interested in words, Loki began jerking his hips in earnest.  Each time his cock passed through her entrance forced her a step closer to an orgasm.  Since his proclamation that she only come with his permission, she’d managed to succeed so far.  But, something about the debasing tone he’d taken with her was causing an unseemly reaction.  He’d been speaking of her as if she were an object.  His object.  Though in that moment she very much tried to hate him, the idea sparked heat low in her belly. 

The prospect of carrying his child did make her feel important.  It was an honor.  He was a powerful man that people feared and revered.  It was impossible not to be attracted to that.  And the fact that he didn’t find her displeasing was slightly overwhelming. 

A brisk snap of the hips knocked her out of her thoughts, prompting a moan.

"Do you like knowing you please me?  More than another woman has pleased me in centuries?”

It was hard to ignore him with their eyes locked, but she managed.  With a growl, Loki gripped her waist and slammed their hips together.  “Do you?”

Crying out in pleasured pain, she managed a nod.

“Good.”

With that, he pulled back, almost leaving her cunt, before plummeting into her pussy once again.  She screamed as his pubic bone ground harshly against her clit, making her walls flutter.

Her eyes had rolled back and it took a moment for her vision to return and when it did, he was smiling at her again.

“You’re easy to please.  I do appreciate that, I hope you know.”

His thrusts resumed, the sound of skin on skin echoing in his chambers.  The slick of her cunt aided his rapid pumping, which sent them both closer and closer to completion.  Petra began to whimper, biting her tongue in an attempt to distract from the fire blooming in her belly.  Just as she was about to struggle away from him, he spoke.

“Come, _skapning_.”

With a wail she lost all sense of being for several moments, floating blissfully in pleasured nothingness as her walls contracted around his cock.  With a low growl his hips jackhammered against hers, likely leaving bruises for her to find tomorrow.  He erupted inside her, his come flooding her insides and leaking out as he continued to fuck her.

Both panting, Loki took a moment to gather himself before pulling out.  Without a second look at his bedmate he stretched, his back cracking as he sighed contentedly.  Striding back to his chair, he picked up his book and resumed reading while Petra caught her breath on the bed.  She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong to make him leave like that.  Shaking her head in disbelief, she ignored the mess between her legs and rolled over and tried to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> So, I'm having major surgery today (Tuesday). Recovery is going to be mildly heinous. Writing while recovering is either going to save me because it'll be a distraction from the discomfort or evade me completely because I'll be so undernourished that I can't think to do it. Unfortunately, probably the latter. Writing makes me immensely happy, so I'll be back at it as soon as possible.
> 
> At the risk of sounding completely self-absorbed and needy, if anyone has an extra thought or prayer to spare, I'd be very grateful. This is a surgery I've been waiting about 18 months for and I'm really excited to finally be having it, but the significant risk is becoming a reality. Any extra positivity sent my way is graciously appreciated.
> 
> Much, much love to every one of you, my dear readers,  
> Erin
> 
> PS: The geothermal pools and farming techniques are not my idea, they're [Misreall's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall). She's a literary genius, guys. She originally posted about them in [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8591122/chapters/19700926) hilarious, incendiary story.


	6. Act Natural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time with the knives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Jeg gir** : I yield  
>  **Faen:** Fuck
> 
> Horns and Co™ © [Misreall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall).

Grumbling to herself about being forced into caring for the lady, Marit ambled to Loki’s rooms in order to fetch Petra.  She silently ticked off the things she needed to get done that afternoon.  Find the elf, show her around the kitchens and castle, ensure she knew where to avoid villagers, etc.  Marit was responsible for all of this while simultaneously watching over Loki and Jötunheim.  If she didn’t pity Petra, the girl would be a nuisance, but there was something pathetic about her that provoked a sense of protection in the giant, much to her dismay.

For formality’s sake, she banged on the door to Loki’s chambers.  The steady drip of a stalactite echoed from above, but she was otherwise met with silence.  Planting a hand on her hip, she pounded on the door once more.

“Lady?  I’m coming in.”

Without waiting for permission, she hastened inside, eyes flicking from the bed, to the hearth, to the dressing area.  She frowned, turning in a circle and muttering under her breath.  Marit abandoned finding Petra in Loki’s rooms and started to stalk out the door when she heard a guttural choke.  With the sigh of an overworked parent, Marit shuffled to the bathroom and crossed her arms at the scene before her.

Petra wretched into the toilet bowl, her face wan and shining with beads of sweat.

Without pretense, the advisor spoke.  “Do you have the fever?”

The elf was too lethargic to startle.  She managed to lift her dull eyes to Marit’s face and shook her head, clapping her hand against her mouth as the motion triggered another wave of nausea.  Forcing down the urge to be sick, she paused for a moment to ensure success, then spoke.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Marit’s brows lifted in surprised hope, though she remained confused.  “The majority of the Jötnar doubt the possibility of crossbreeding between you and the King.  Why do you think you’re pregnant?”

Irritated at their lack of faith, Petra placed a cool palm on her clammy forehead.  “Morning sickness,” she grunted.

Marit rolled her eyes to the ceiling.  “It’s not morning, it’s afternoon.  You have the fever and delirium has set in.  This will not please Loki.”  Grumbling, she made to leave.

“Wait,” Petra rasped.

“What?  It will take me time to fetch a healer, what do you want?”

“Morning sickness doesn’t always have to be in the morning.”

Marit’s blank stare heavily implied that Petra’s explanation was lacking.

“When elves get pregnant, usually they get sick.  It can happen in the morning, but at other times of the day too.  It’s just called morning sickness.  This is supposed to happen.”

The older woman squinted.  “If— _If—_ that’s what this is, how is that standard for elven pregnancies?  How has your species survived?  You can barely fight, and your reproductive process is faulty.  You are so feeble.”

Petra responded by gagging and glaring simultaneously.  Wiping her mouth, she rubbed her eyes.  “It’s mild, the sickness.  At least it’s supposed to be.  I think this is mild?”

Sagging against the toilet, she released a shaky breath as her eyes closed.  Her stomach rolled again and she wrapped her arm around her middle.  Her delicate fingers rested limply against her side, causing Marit’s eyes to widen.

The sound of rustling fabric prompted Petra to open her eyes and she yelled when she caught a glimpse of Marit exiting the room.

“Wait!”

Marit’s boots thumped against the floor as she retraced her steps.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“To tell him.”

 The idea had crossed Petra’s mind, but lacked urgency.  She’d been too busy trying not to pass out. 

“What if I’m wrong?”

Eyes locked on Petra’s hands, Marit shook her head.

“You’re not.”

Had she the mobility, Petra would’ve glanced up and squinted at Marit.

“Well, why do we have to tell him now?  Can’t I at least finish being sick?”

“Because if we don’t, we’ll both face his wrath.”

 Petra groaned and rubbed her eyes.

Marit was right.  Besides, this was a good thing, assuming she was really pregnant.  This was supposed to happen.  Loki needed to know.  If her body could carry his baby, her importance in his world solidified.  Or at least the importance of her body. 

Petra bowed her head, summoning the energy to stand.  “Don’t go without me.”

 Marit gave an exaggerated sigh and leaned against the doorframe.

Shakily rising, Petra grimaced at her own gray reflection in the mirror as she rinsed her mouth.  Dabbing at her lips with a towel, she gingerly made her way to Marit’s side.

"Where is he?”

The corner of Marit’s mouth quirked.  “The training grounds.”

 

Bundled up to her nose, hands reduced to useless nubs swathed in rabbit-lined mittens, Petra, accompanied by Marit, tromped through the snowy atrium of the training grounds.

"He practices every day,” the giant explained as they entered the space.  “Axe, spear, sword, knife, he wields them all.”

The women meandered up the stairs to a broad platform of ice.  The perimeter of the circle was lined with enough practice spears and swords to outfit a small army.  Inside the ring, the combatants lunged at one another, their stances strong due to the crampons fastened to the bottom of their boots.

Petra’s brows rose as she spotted Loki.  The king emitted vitality, and his grace and agility set him apart from the others.  Though shorter and more slender than his opponents, he was infinitely faster.  He stood in the center of the pit, surrounded by three other warriors.  Their weapons were crude compared to the elegant rapiers of the Dökkálfar, but appeared just as effective.

Loki’s thick, six-foot sword split the air as he brought it down on another Jötunn.  She grunted and blocked him, but when he spun and advanced a second time he feigned left and swung right.  When she went to parry, the arc of his blade stopped at her neck.  Loki held it as she fumed silently, dropping her sword into the snow.

“ _Jeg gir_ ,” she scowled.

Teeming with power, a smirk tugged at Loki’s lips as he turned towards the other two fighters.

With calm ease he pursued them.  As they fought, there were several instances in which it looked as though he was about to be sliced through, but he consistently darted out of their reach.  His expression of arrogant superiority remained as he dashed towards the larger of the two, twisting and lashing.  Ducking beneath a brutal swing, Loki managed to maneuver his blade so it was level with one of the other giant’s lower ribs.  An axe landed blade-down in the snow as his adversary surrendered.

The last Jötunn took only a moment to best as Loki zipped behind him when the giant’s sword careened through the air.   The king’s opponent was powerful, but slow.  Loki’s sword was a blur as he thrust it against his opponents side, stopping as it came in contact with his armor.  

“ _Jeg gir,”_ the other male grunted, holding up a hand.

Defeated, all three gathered their gear and gave their king a shallow bow.  Practice was over. 

Wiping his brow, Loki turned to the newly arrived women, waiting for either to speak.  His pupils were dilated, chest still heaving from exertion.  He looked like an animal fresh from the hunt.

When no one spoke, Marit glanced at Petra, giving her a gentle shove towards him.

“The lady has something to tell you.”

Cheeks growing warm, the elf took another step forward.  Her chest tightened as she tried to speak, which only worsened as Loki’s eyes raked over her bundled body.

He cocked his head, eyes locked with Petra’s.  “Tell me later,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a devilish smirk.  “I want to play with her first.”

Marit hesitated, eyes darting between the charged Jötunn and his elf, then nodded with a bow.  Saying nothing, she abandoned a stunned Petra, leaving her alone.

“Do you know swords and knives, _skapning_?”

Shifting her weight uneasily, she shook her head.  “When I was young we had lessons, but I hardly recall anything.  It was ages ago and I’ve never had use for them.”

“Let’s see what you do remember, then.”

She yelped when he lobbed a small dagger at her, barely managing to catch the handle without cutting herself. 

Hands clasped behind his back and sword still tucked safely in its sheath, Loki nodded at her to move forward.

“Come at me.  Attack.”

Glancing down at the weapon, she idly kicked at a raised piece of the icy arena.  “You know you’ll beat me in seconds.”

Expression hardening, he beckoned.  “Advance.”

He wasn’t going to let it go.  Petra unfastened her bulky cloak and dropped it to the ground. 

Destined for humiliation, she squeezed the hilt of the knife and steeled herself.  With a deep breath, she lunged, aiming at Loki’s chest.  He sidestepped her and she stumbled forward from the force of her attack.  Managing to balance herself so she didn’t keel over, she turned back towards Loki and crossed her arms to the best of her ability.  The layers of clothing adorning her body were thick and made movement sloppy, which lessened the severity of her sulking stance.  Though she expected him to poke fun at her flailing, Loki remained serious.

He started circling her.  “Again.”

Petra twirled as he stalked her, sighing in resignation as she obeyed and made to jab at his middle.  Once more, he evaded her.

“Again.”

With the same haughty smirk spread across his lips, Loki led Petra all around the arena.  By the time he grew bored, she was panting and sweaty. 

He waved her on.

“One last try, _skapning._ ”

Glaring, she lurched forward, eager to sink the tip of her dagger into his abdomen when he caught and spun her.  He managed to not only pin her in place, but to take possession of her knife.  The cold blade kissed the tender skin of her neck as he held her from behind.

“You’ll need to improve to survive here.” 

Petra wheezed as irritated fear shivered up her spine. 

Loki continued, his breath coming in humid puffs against the side of her face.  “I could end your life right now.”

Swallowing hard, Petra cleared her tight throat.  “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Wouldn’t I, now?”

Excited nervousness flapped in her belly once again.  He very well could.  He’d likely be efficient, too; a brutal slitting of the throat. 

But he didn’t know what she had inside her.

“You wouldn’t.”  She stood tall, forcing her voice not to shake.  “I-I’m pregnant.  You wouldn’t risk it.”

He stiffened behind her, breath catching.  His already firm muscles squeezed around her middle, making it that much harder to breathe.  Loki’s grip on the dagger tensed and she fought the urge to attempt escape.  She hadn’t survived on Svartalfheim for as long as she had by being passive, but she also knew when she was sorely outmatched.

The king held his breath.  It was his turn to experience excitement, and for a moment, his eyes closed in gratitude.  He was hesitant to believe the elf until she provided proof, but a rare gleam of hope bloomed in his chest.  What if the Norns had truly given him an opportunity to save his people? 

Petra shifted against him, breaking the spell.  Frowning, he stoically pushed down the emotion.   The giant made a show of disregarding her announcement.

“I wouldn’t kill you, that’s for certain.”

Petra’s face fell.  Mild, bitter heartbreak squeezed the air from her lungs.  She hadn’t necessarily expected him to be elated, but some validation would’ve been nice.  She’d done what he’d wanted.  She’d earned the right to live with the Jötnar. 

“There are, however, many things I could do without killing you,” he continued.

His cold blade pressed firmly against her throat and her skin prickled in panic.  Physical pain wasn’t a new concept, but it also wasn’t a threat she was expecting from him.

“Why?” she murmured.

He pressed his pelvis against her back, as he was tall enough that his hips sat higher than her rear.  “Because I can.  Because you’re weak.”

Loki flexed his wrist and the side of his blade nicked her skin.  Her breath hitched as she held deathly still.  Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she had expected from him.  He was too apathetic to celebrate their conception verbally, and he lacked the physical warmth to embrace her.  She was foolish to hope for positive reinforcement.

Anger began to fester at his lack of response, but she was too distracted to address it.   Despite the intermittent danger she was in, a warmth began to gather in her lower belly as he held her tight.  There was something intoxicating about being at his mercy.  However, she refused to reward his cruel affect by allowing him to arouse her.  Ignoring the heat, she raised her chin, exposing her neck.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

“Do it then.  I’ve had worse.”

His chest rumbled against her back as he chuckled.

“You may be weak, but you are brave.”  He lowered the knife.  “Stupid, but brave.”

Unsure whether to interpret the statement as a complement or a slight, Petra huffed.  It wasn’t often she rebelled; her position in life didn’t call for or allow it.  But with Loki, she was developing the need to challenge her situation and his treatment of her.  Though he still held her close, she wiggled her arms free of his grasp and rebelliously settled her hands on the arm clamped around her middle. 

She could hear him growl in her ear, and provoking the king no longer seemed as advantageous as it had.  Nonetheless, she held her ground.  Petra turned her face to the side so he could hear her properly.

“You’ve proved you can overpower me.  We already knew that.  This was a waste of time.  Are you satisfied?”

Wind howled through the arena, causing small snow drifts to form.

“Satisfaction is not in my nature,” he finally said, his words barely audible over the gusts.

Retracting his arm, Loki tossed the dagger to the ground.  The weapon landed with the point buried in the ice. 

Sighing, Petra plodded a few steps away from him for the sake of recuperating and removed a mitten to rub her eyes.

He snatched her hand from the air and used his grip on her wrist to spin her.   She glared up at him. 

Loki stared at her hand.  The tips of her fingers looked as if she’d been picking berries.  They’d gone from blue gray to a warmer violet.  He stood frozen in place.  “You’re pregnant.”

Petra’s face flushed in anger.  “Which I already told you.  And you completely disregarded.”

Loki studied her, his brows pinched.  He hesitated before speaking.  “I didn’t believe it until now.”

The elf wrenched her arm from his grasp and glanced down at her fingers.  She flexed them experimentally as she tried to not forgive his reasoning.  He should’ve trusted her.  True, her being ill could’ve been a cruel coincidence, but she shared his bed.  That had to count for something.

While she stewed, Loki bent to pick up her cloak.  “You need to get out of the cold,” he grunted, thrusting it at her.

“I’m fine.  I’m warm enough.”

His maroon eyes narrowed.  “You don’t know how fragile this child may be.  Don’t speak as if you know what’s best for you.  No one does.  This baby is a hybrid.  We’ll take every precaution.”  As he grew cross, his words adopted the slightest hint of an accent.

Throwing her cloak around her shoulders, she sheepishly looked at her feet.  “I didn’t mean to be petulant, you just order me around frequently.  It’s taxing.”

“Act with intelligence and you’ll find I hover significantly less.”

Blushing, she pursed her lips and started back into the castle.

                       

That night, Loki had a dinner more formal than simply he and Petra eating in his rooms, which normally wouldn’t have bothered her.  She usually ended up tuning him out because he often spent the meal looking over documents or conducting impromptu meetings with Marit. 

Tonight, she’d been left alone.  She was an introvert by nature, but was quickly learning the value of companionship, even if said companion was distracted.  The silence of isolation was growing maddening. 

Loki had ordered her to stay in his rooms that night, and Petra had really, really tried.  But, after scouring every inch of the dwelling, she still couldn’t find the book on Valkyries she’d been reading that morning.  It was one of the few books he had that wasn’t in Jötunn and she was bored of trying and failing to knit. 

Tiptoeing to the doors of the Great Hall, she peeked between them and spied Loki at a table of other giants.  Determining his meeting casual enough to interrupt, she slipped through the entrance and ambled to the table.   As drew closer, she realized Loki was deep in conversation with a stout, heavily armed man from Nidavellir.  The Dwarf broke Loki’s gaze and Petra stilled, her brows raised.

The Dwarf’s eyes quickly wandered from her face to her chest, which was mostly contained by a simple charcoal gray dress. 

Perplexed, he stopped in the middle of chewing, speaking with his mouth full, “What is a Dökkálfr doing in Jötunheim?  She doesn’t look like a diplomat,” he accused, his gaze fixed on her cleavage.  The chests of the athletic Jötnar were small and Petra’s was blaringly different.

Her cheeks and the tips of her ears flamed.  Dwarves weren’t known for being rude, but this one must’ve been fathered by a Rock Troll.  For a moment she stood frozen, looking to Loki in panic.  It wouldn’t do for word to spread of a Dark Elf residing with the Jötnar.  Bounty hunters on Svartalfheim could come looking for a trophy. 

Loki hesitated, tilting his head as he determined how to describe her position.  The braver part of Petra beat him to it.

“Like you, I’m a guest,” she blurted, standing straight. “I’m part of an envoy seeking to further the peace between Svartalfheim and Jötunheim.”  She wasn’t wrong.  A half Jötunn, half Dökkálfr child could encourage favorable relations between realms.

Narrowing her eyes, she gained confidence.  “I expect you’ll show me the same respect as any other dignitary in this room.”

The man flushed and mumbled an apology before clearing his throat and making an effort to continue his conversation with Loki.  The king ignored him, his gaze set on Petra.

“Did you need something, _skapning_?  Was there a reason for the intrusion?”

The blush from the Dwarf’s attention had just started fading when Loki coaxed her crimson glow to burn brighter.  Though embarrassed at her initial reason for interrupting, Petra refused to look meek or unsure before the others.  Raising her chin, she stalked forward to Loki’s side.  Bending over, she rested her hand on his shoulder as her lips brushed his ear.  Everyone stared as she whispered to him.  He looked at her pointedly, his expression cool.  Loki spoke softly in return and she offered a sheepish smile. 

While retracting her hand from his shoulder, she accidentally brushed one of his horns.  Loki inhaled sharply through his nose, his lids fluttering closed for a moment.  His eyes gleamed as he opened them.  Petra stiffened as he growled something under his breath.  Nodding emphatically, she gave a little bow to the rest of the dining party, including the Troll/Dwarf hybrid and turned on her heel. 

A skeptical, accented voice called out, “Is the _diplomat_ not staying?”

Petra stopped mid-step and whirled.  An older Jötunn man had spoken out and Loki looked absolutely murderous.  The smallest of the table’s occupants frowned, and inhaled to speak, but was cut off by Loki.

“Petra has other matters to tend to.  Don’t interfere with matters you don’t understand,” he grunted.

The Jötunn that spoke made a monosyllabic noise in response and continued to glare at Petra, who hastened through the doors.  The poor girl was trembling, and as she trekked back to Loki’s rooms she realized she hadn’t even been paying attention when he had told her where her book was.  Back to her horrific attempts at knitting it was.

 

Yanking at a thick, stubborn knot in her yarn, Petra cursed as Loki entered his chambers.  She watched him anxiously, following him with her gaze as he readied for bed.  When she couldn’t take the silence of his ignoring her, she spoke up.

“What happened to that Dwarf?”

Loki stopped halfway through unbuckling his belt and turned.  His lips were drawn, brows pinched.

“Marit will take care of him.”

Petra rubbed her face, “No, don’t kill him, please.  It’s my fault for barging in.”

“It was your fault.  However, I misspoke.  Marit _has_ taken care of him.  Word that you are here will not leave Jötunheim.  The baby is safe.”

She stared at him in surprise, a mild shiver quivering through her.  He’d killed for her, for their child.  To keep them safe.  Though she felt guilty, she couldn’t ignore the flame in her belly that flared in response to his killing in order to protect their young.

Shedding his tunic, Loki resumed undressing after taking a long drink of ale from a cup on the dining table.  “The giant that spoke out against you has also been dealt with.”

“You killed one of your own?”

“I said he’s been dealt with, not killed.”

Petra wasn’t sure which was worse.  “I see.”Ahe waited a few more moments for him to speak, but when he neglected to look at her, she rose from her chair and padded in the direction of her room.  Most nights Loki desired to breed, but with a pang of confused disappointment, she realized there was no point to having sex anymore.  She was already with child.

Ignoring her dissatisfaction, she reasoned that she’d earned a break.  With no technical right to her body, she finally had the power to deny him.  He had such overpowering _influence_ over her body when they were together, it was only fair that she regain sexual autonomy.

Yawning, she wrapped her fingers around the knob when a blue palm slammed the wooden door closed.  She turned with a gasp, only to find the tip of her nose brushing Loki’s chest. 

“What are you doing?” he growled.

Her stomach fluttered as she planted a hand on his muscled abdomen and pushed.  She could feel his arousal pressing against her upper belly.

"I’m going to bed.  Let me in.”

"What makes you think sex between us ceases once you’re pregnant?”

Rolling her eyes to meet his, she reached behind her for the knob and tugged.  “Are you joking?”

His face remained mildly disinterested as he held the door closed.  “No.”

“Sex no longer serves a purpose, you’re not going to get me pregnant again for another nine months.”

Offhandedly the fact that he’d likely breed her immediately after their first child hit her.  She had a feeling it would be ages until he let her body rest.

“Sex is beneficial to your body while with child.  We’ll continue as we have.”

Petra snorted.  “That’s not part of the agreement and you know it.  I’ve earned a respite.

The corner of his mouth twitched.  “Oh, _skapning._ ”  The intensity of his gaze was unsettling.  Unable to maintain his gaze, her eyes flicked from his to his chest.  He leaned forward until his lips were level with her ear.  “That greedy little cunt of yours cannot survive on orgasms by your hand alone.  Not after what I’ve done with it.  To it.”

Her breath hitched and her lashes fluttered closed.  The urge to give in was strong, but she forced it down.  She’d be fine without him.  She would.  Need only came to her occasionally and surely she could take care of it herself.  She’d survived without his touch long before meeting him and she’d survive now.

“Goodnight, Loki.”

 She spun in his arms, uncertain if elbowing him was intentional or not.  Again, she tugged at the doorknob.

"Let me in,” she snapped over her shoulder.

He pushed off the doorframe, arms crossing.  “You are to enter my bed now or you’ll sleep with the servants.  You’re either useful or you’re not, and if you are negligent this agreement is void.  Sex will fortify your immune system.  You’re vulnerable to Jötunn diseases.”

Leaning against her door, he nodded to his bed. 

He was lying.  He just wanted to continue driving her mad with his body.  He got off on it.  Incredulous, she stared at him, her jaw working to form a scathing retort.  He cut her off before she had a chance.

“Have you birthed a Jötunn child?  Are you a parent?”Lips pursing, she shook her head.

“Then don’t assume you know more on the subject than I do.  Get in my bed.”

Eyes narrowed, she racked her brain for a way to prove him wrong.  All she could conclude was that he had every advantage.  He knew more about this than she did, and whether telling her the truth or not, she was obligated by their agreement to ensure the pregnancy was successful.

“Fine,” she hissed. 

Making a show of stomping to his bed, she pulled her dress over her head and hurled it into the corner of the room, followed by her underclothes.  Despite the fire in his rooms, goosebumps prickled on her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself.  She tried to pout, but her expression faltered as he stalked to her.  Evading him the only way she knew how, she put distance between their faces as she crawled on all fours onto the bed.

She shrieked as a chilly hand caught her ankle and flipped her over onto her back.  Now his face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheeks.

“I’ve been hard since you touched my horn at dinner.  Do you know how difficult it is to stay civil with a man that dared to look at you while aroused?” he seethed.  “I wanted to shred the skin from his body.  Diplomacy isn’t something that comes natural to the Jötnar.  It’s gruelingly learned.  To maintain that while trying not to rip his throat out for staring at the woman carrying my child…”

Petra’s heart squeezed in her chest.  Unnoticed, Loki barreled forward.

“You have no idea the hardship you put me through,” he hissed as he crawled on top of her.

Petra’s eyes were wide as he snarled.  “I’m sorry?”

“You’re not.  Not as you should be.”

He glared down at her.  She had no right to look frightened.  This trouble was of her making.  He’d never felt the need to punish sexually.  Never did he struggle to determine consequences; he was rather ingenious when it came to them.  Removing a finger, seizing food stores, or sentencing someone to death  just wouldn’t do in this situation.  With her, the only satisfaction he got was punishing carnally. 

She’d never seen him so incensed.  Irked and perturbed, yes.  She’d only kind of meant to touch his horn.  Looking back, doing so in a public setting may not have been the best place to experiment, but the opportunity presented itself and she took it.  When she had grabbed it in the middle of sex, she was in his lap and didn’t get to see his face.  Seeing it up close was almost worth it.

Loki’s hand fumbled between them, cupping her slit before dragging his finger between her lips.  For as gruff and brutal a man as he was, he never took her until she was ready.

Petra’s eyes closed as his finger trailed through the mess of wetness between her legs.  It really wasn’t her fault.  She blamed baser instinct for finding a rampaging, possessive male attractive.  It had to have something to do with the pregnancy.  Surely there was an excuse for her visceral reaction to his anger.

He growled low in his throat at what he discovered her soaked folds and without hesitation took his cock in his hand and impaled her.

Petra cried out, his girth painful.  Normally he eased into her, but tonight he lacked the patience.  He began rocking his hips and soon the sting was overwhelmed with pleasure that made her eyes roll back.  Each thrust of his length dragged the ridges of his markings against her inner walls, stroking places she hadn’t known existed.  It didn’t take long for her to reach the end of what her tolerance. 

Unconsciously her legs wrapped around his middle, heels digging into his arse as she tried to fuck him back.  He was always so physically in charge during their couplings, she felt like she at least had a chance at a glimpse of something remotely dominant when he was on top, versus behind her.  Even if all that consisted of was ramming her hips back against his.

Their gasping and panting filled the room as his hips rolled over hers, rocking the bed so hard the frame knocked against the wall.  On a whim, Loki pushed up, propping himself up on an arm.  He studied her face, exquisite under the torture of pleasure.  Her brow was crinkled, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold on to reality.

"Look at me,” he rumbled.

Petra’s eyes fluttered open, the pressure in her belly only building when she found him staring down at her.  Fright still reflected in her eyes, but it was vastly outnumbered by lust.  When he bottomed out, she screeched, ignoring the pain and accepting only the sheer satisfaction of having him inside her.

Before he could stop it, words tumbled from his mouth, “Come, my little elven whore.”

Despite his weight, her back arched and her lips parted in a silent scream.  Her legs squeezed around him, ankles hooking as she chased every throb of pleasure.  Hands wrapped around her shoulders, she instinctually made a grab for one of his horns.

“ _Faen!”_ he grunted, shooting ropes of come into her pulsing cunt.

           

She didn’t realize he was crushing her until she started going dizzy from lack of air.

“Move,” she grumbled, shoving at his shoulders.

With a groan, Loki rolled off her.  He wiped at his face, still trying to catch his breath.  Eyes fluttering shut, he waved a hand dismissively.  “You may return to your room now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recovery has gone much better than any of us anticipated. I detoxed my liver two weeks prior to the operation (by eating nothing but protein shakes and sugar free pudding, it was awful), which apparently made a huge difference. I'm still mildly starving to death, living on tiny amounts of watered down tomato soup, water and diet juice, but life is pretty good. Thanks for all of the well wishes, it meant a lot.


	7. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time we just romped around in the sheets.

A strangled scream broke the silence of the frigid night.  Loki was on his feet before fully conscious, dagger in hand as he oriented himself.  Another shriek echoed down the hall.  One by one he resituated his fingers around the knife’s hilt and scaled the wall with silent steps.   Pressing his ear to the door of the spare room, he held his breath and listened.

Muffled whining sounded from inside and he flung the door open.  He was met with dark silence.  Then, someone whimpered, which was followed by the sound of labored breathing.  He’d heard the noise enough times to know it was Petra.

Light poured in from the hallway, illuminating the girl’s face.  Confused when she appeared to remain unconscious, he scanned the room for invaders.  Determining he and Petra were the sole occupants of the room, Loki inched forward to her side.  Her blanket was strewn on the floor, sheet twisted between her legs and her forehead was damp with perspiration.  The silvery white of her brows was furrowed as she reeled away from something he couldn’t see.

“ _Skapning,_ ” he whispered.

Another moan.

Grumbling under his breath, he prodded her with an indigo finger.

“ _Skapning_.”

She flinched away from his touch with a hiss.

“Petra,” he growled, shaking her shoulder.

The hand flying at his face was unexpected, but he caught the elf’s wrist.

“Petra!”

She bolted up, crying out and yanking her arm to reclaim her hand, which Loki held firmly.

“Enough!”

Chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, she squinted at him in the dark.  “Loki?”

“Yes.”

Loki stared at her as she blinked, her eyes focusing and thoughts clearing.  “I’m on Jötunheim,” she murmured to herself, wiping her face.  “That was a dream.”

“It would appear so.”

Cheeks burning, Petra glared at Loki’s unhelpful commentary.  She couldn’t control her unconscious.  It’s not like she chose to have a nightmare.

His face was paler than normal, his eyes sleepy.  She’d woken him up.  Petra almost mentioned she was sorry to rouse him, but his grumpy affect made the thought a fleeting one.

Gaze flicking over her form in the dark, Loki made eye contact with her for a moment, blinked, then turned for the door.

Her mouth opened to thank him for pulling her from her nightmare, but the door slammed closed before she got a word out.  Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, she untangled herself from the sheet and tried to settle back into bed.  She tossed and turned for a few minutes, then decided to light a candle and read until she grew sleepy again.

 

Sprawled on his bed, Loki slept soundly.  Out of habit, his right arm was buried beneath his pillow, knife in hand. 

His eyes cracked open when he felt his bed dip and before he registered what he was doing, his blade was flying through the air.

“Loki!” someone hissed.

His dagger stopped inches from Petra’s face.  She sat on her knees next to him.  Loki’s eyes shone in the moonlight, gleaming with rage.

_“Jeg kunne ha lagt det gjennom øyet ditt!”_

He didn’t have to speak in the common tongue for her to know what he said.

“I know, you could’ve run it through my eye.  I’m lucky you’re so sharp,” she recited.

Seething, he glared at her.  “What do you want, aside from to die by my hand in the middle of the night?”

Petra avoided his gaze and pulled at the hem of her nightgown.  “I can’t sleep,” she muttered.

Loki stared at her blankly.  “Do you need a healer?”

She scowled and shook her head.  Scooting closer to him, she leaned her shoulder against the wooden headboard.

His face grew concerned, though not for her wellbeing.  She was acting oddly, as if she needed something she wasn’t articulating.  He didn’t have anything he felt like giving.

“Why are you here?”

Scrubbing her face, she looked away.  “I can’t sleep.”

"Yes, we’ve established that.  Why can’t you sleep?  If you’re not satisfied with the accommodations there are no other options—.”

“My bed is fine,” she snapped.  “I just had a bad dream.”

"About what?” he scoffed.  “You’re cohabitating with one of the most terrifying species in the Nine Realms.  What else is there to fear?”

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.  “I wasn’t afraid, I was reliving.”

With a huff, Loki lay on his side facing away from Petra.

"Whatever disturbed your sleep will not be remedied in my bed.  Return to your room.  I do not wish for your company,” he said over his shoulder.

He was met with silence.  Rolling over, he stared at the outline of her form in the dark.  The bright moonlight didn’t gleam off the whites of her eyes; they were focused on her hands.  The elf wiped her palms on her dress and grumbled under her breath.

“What was that, _skapning_?”

She repeated herself so quickly he couldn’t understand her.

“Speak clearly or leave.  This grows tiresome.”

Petra squirmed, wildly uncomfortable appearing so vulnerable.  She felt silly for her fears, but that didn’t make her panic any less real.

"Please can I sleep with you?  I keep hearing and seeing things I know aren’t there, but I can’t stop it.  Being with someone else makes it a little better.”

Slowly his brows rose as he studied her.  He fought with himself for a moment, pragmatically listing off reasons to make her leave, but her wide eyes did him in.  With a curt nod he rolled away from her, exhaling deeply.  “If you must.  Though this night will not repeat itself.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

"Good.”

Rigid body relaxing, she slipped beneath the covers and pulled her knees to her chest.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

Loki remained silent, his breath growing even.  Petra inched across the mattress, stopping only once she could feel her shins brush against his back as she curled into a ball.  Tucking her hand beneath her pillow, she tried to settle in for the night.

Fifteen minutes later Petra was pulling and rearranging the covers.  She huffed.  Sleep was evading her, despite Loki’s presence.  Images of her mother, stoic but helpless, before the Dökkálfar court flashed in her memory.  She could still hear her screams.  The flashbacks fired rapidly, showing her glimpses of her mother being savaged by barbaric trolls.  Rubbing her face, she fought back tears.

The king snored softly, unintentionally breaking her caustic train of thought.  She gazed down at him, making sure he was truly asleep.  His eyes moved beneath his lids; he was dreaming.

Words started bubbling up from her throat before she could stop them.

“They killed my mother before I left,” she murmured.

When he didn’t stir, she continued.  She hadn’t spoken to anyone about what happened that night.  There hadn’t been a time or place.

“After keeping it concealed for so long, a rumor started that my father was human, which is true.”  Holding her breath, she waited for him to roar awake.  When he didn’t, she watched him dubiously and continued.

“The Dökkálfar loathe humans.  And loathe is putting it lightly.  They hate the folklore, how they romantize elves, their optimism.  Everything about them.  I’d always known something about me was unusual. I cried easier than other elves as a child.  I still do, I suppose, no matter how hard I try at apathy.  My mother used to say it’s because I’m half human; that I feel more.  It was enough to make me stick out.  Everyone could tell I was different.”

She looked at her purple-stained hands.  “It had little to do with my looks.  It was my affect.  My skin is really no different than most Dark Elves’.  Melanin levels differ from Dökkálfr to Dökkálfr.  That mine is a little lighter shouldn’t have mattered.  But it managed to draw even more unwanted attention.  When a maid found a Midgardian photograph of my parents together in my mother’s bedroom, she quickly realized what I was, why I’d been the way I am.”  She smiled bitterly.  “Dark Elves aren’t loyal.  You know that.  They’re merciless.  The servant knew she’d receive a hefty reward for exposing my mother and me, so she did.  She showed the court the picture and my mother didn’t live to see the sun the next day.”

Before that night, Petra hadn’t known the picture existed.  She’d had no idea what her father looked like.  The image had captured the couple on a lake in Vanaheim with a smorgasbord of food spread out on a blanket before them.  Her mother’s face was neutral, which was a change from the typical severity of her expression.  It was the happiest Petra had ever seen her.  Her father smiled adoringly at her mother with his arm wrapped around her shoulders.  Knowing a memento of her mother existed on Svartalfheim that she’d never see again made her throat tight.  Her lids fluttered closed, flushing a round of tears down her cheeks.

Despite the anguish, it felt good to talk about her exile, even if her audience was asleep.  Keeping it locked up felt like holding on to a dirty secret and she no longer had interest in keeping it.

Wiping tears from her face, she sniffled and steeled herself against emotion.  She was stronger than that.  With an irritated huff, she plopped back down on the bed, nestling against the pillows when a hand reached out and patted her own.  She looked at Loki in shock, but his eyes were still closed.  It must have been a half-conscious recalled act of sympathy from his days on Asgard.  There was no other explanation for it.  It was unlikely he’d even remember doing it in the morning.

The oblivious action made her chest tight.  Perhaps this was a glimpse at the possibility of something more than just sex with Loki.  She gazed at his lips, recalling the butterflies kissing had conjured the few times she’d done it on Svartalfheim.  Not that she wanted that, she reminded herself.  She and Loki were fine the way they were.  It was a business deal.  Nonetheless soothed by his unaware gesture of comfort, she inched closer to him and closed her eyes.

 

The following night, Loki was surprised to find Petra waiting for him in his bed.  She tried to keep her face neutral, to suppress her need.  To her dismay, she’d been aching for more than sex after Loki had unconsciously consoled her.  She pined for something that resembled intimacy, even if it was just a little.  A kiss, an embrace, just a fond glance.  She’d take anything at this point.  The mere notion of craving such a superfluous emotional connection made her furious with her human half, of course.  She also blamed it on hormones, but that didn’t dampen the need.

Interpreting her readiness as eagerness, Loki began undressing with a cocky smile on his face.  He shucked off his shirt, stalking to the bed and climbing on top of Petra.  As he started rucking her skirt up around her middle, she pressed her hands against his chest, shaking her head.

“Wait.”

Loki’s expression was incredulous.  She had been waiting for him, not the other way around.

“Are you resisting?”

"No!”  She swallowed thickly.  Being tied down had no appeal tonight.  “No.  I’m not resisting.”

His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head.  “Then what is it you want?”

Petra looked away, her brows knitting together.

"My patience runs thin, _skapning_.  You were practically laid out for me when I arrived.  Are you sure you’re not denying me?”

Panicked, she blurted the words before thinking them through.  “Do you know how to kiss?”  She winced, ashamed of asking.  Eyes cast downward, Petra continued.  “Is-Is that something Jötnar do?”

Loki made a face, his lip curling in distaste.  “It’s uncommon.”

“But you know how?”

"In my travels I’ve had women of all realms.  Of course I know how.”

“Will you kiss me?” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.  She didn’t want to see the smirk on his face when he denied her, but she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

Suspicion worked itself across his face.  “Why would I do that?  How will it benefit me?”

Petra looked away, racking her brain for a tradeoff.  What would he want?  What did Frost Giants desire?

“I-I’ll please you.”  She bit her lip, glancing up at him.  “Kiss me once and I’ll please you.”

"You haven’t the faintest idea how to please me.”

She momentarily wilted beneath him.  She’d been foolish to think she had the power to satisfy him. 

Petra frowned.  When she thought about it, he was a man, no different than any other.  He’d want what all men want.  Stubbornly she met his gaze and elbowed him as she crossed her arms in both defense and frustration.  “Let me try?”  He raised a brow.  “Let me… Let me earn it.  I’ll go first.  I’ll show you.  I can do it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched and his brows raised in amused doubt.  “Fine.  Prove yourself worthy.”

Raising her chin, she feigned confidence.  “Take off your trousers.”

Loki chuckled and pushed off her to resituate himself on the bed.  His head bent forward as he untied his trousers.  The sound of bedcovers rustling indicated Petra was moving, but he didn’t pay her any mind.         

He felt her warmth at his side a second before her lips brushed against his horn.  Both bodies froze.  Petra waited for him to say something, to stop and ridicule her.  He didn’t.  She leaned forward, kissing it once more and paused again.  He could feel her nervous panting against the black sheath of his horn, causing a shiver to trill up his spine.

"Petr—.”

His voice caught in his throat when her tongue made contact along the smooth surface.

Loki released a guttural grunt, his eyes closing in pleasure.

With her free hand, she stroked the length of his other horn as she dragged her oral muscle along the first.  She could hear him grind his teeth in an effort to keep quiet.

Confident that she could, in fact, please him, she gave his opposite horn a kitten lick before sliding off the bed and creeping between his legs.  His freed cock bobbed, angry and swollen from her touching his horns.  Chest heaving, Loki peered down at her.  The intensity of his gaze made it hard to breathe.

Eyes cast downward, her tongue darted out to taste the bead of precome gathered at the tip.  When his breath caught and he didn’t push her away, she let her eyes flutter closed, relishing in the heady taste of him.  Without thinking she hummed in satisfaction and took him between her lips.  She traced the ridges of his length with her tongue, following them from root to tip. 

Though he made no additional sounds, she glanced up to find his lips parted in ecstasy and his face contorted in pleasure.  With a pleased purr, she took him further inside her mouth until he bumped the back of her throat. 

Not having had a mouth envelop his cock in ages, Loki made her stop before his body embarrassed him.  When he brusquely pushed her away she screeched in surprise, her stomach sinking.  She’d exposed herself by trying to appease him, and it had backfired.

With a growl he slid his hands under her arms and squeezed her ribcage to haul her into his lap.  She straddled his legs, her cheeks glowing crimson as she prepared herself for his scorn.

She gasped when fingers tangled in her silver hair as he yanked her face to his.  They made eye contact for a brief moment and Petra braced herself.  She made a squeak of surprise as their teeth knocked and his lips descended on her mouth.  She faintly registered the sting of a her upper lip splitting, but paid it little mind.

Once she recovered from shock, Petra’s arms slipped around his neck and she pressed her chest to his.  With his free hand he cupped her jaw, angling her as it pleased him.  Wrapping his arm around her middle like a vice, his tongue flicked past her lips, seeking hers.  She met it with her own and quickly lost herself in the erotic act as he plundered her mouth.

 Growing light headed and self-conscious, Petra abruptly pulled away when she ran out of breath.  Stomach fluttering, she cautiously raised her eyes.  “That-I pleased you?” she panted.

Loki grunted and jerked her body back against his.  “Quiet,” he muttered against her mouth.  His lips savaged hers, kissing and nipping with the occasional all out bite.

His hand roved over her belly and he groaned as it slid over the small bump of her abdomen.  He renewed the kiss with vigor, idly massaging her tummy as he ferociously took her mouth.

Petra’s eyes opened surprise as he handled her stomach.  If anything, she assumed her growing middle would repel him, not encourage fondling.  Apparently she was wrong.

She melted against him, intoxicated by his unnecessary touching and the kiss.  The way he took control of her mouth was no different than how he controlled her body.  It was effortless and completely electrifying.

She ignored the steady hammering of her heart, refusing to be exhilarated by something so novel, an act she knew meant nothing to Loki.

After several minutes, the king pulled away, dragging her lower lip with his teeth.  She released a soft whine and he let it free.  Both gasped for air, Petra dazedly touching her lips.  She could feel hot wetness at her fingertips, but was too blissed to feel pain from the cut.

Loki studied her, appearing equally stunned.  Eyes darting away from hers, he cleared his throat, still fighting to catch his breath.  “We’re even.”

Petra blinked, trying to process his meaning.  So she did please him?  He’d kissed her, and that was the agreement.  She counted it as a success.

Loki lugged her from his lap and tossed her on the bed behind him.  He nodded for her to recline.  “Undress.  Get on all fours.”  He needed to seize self-control, and he couldn’t do that with her gazing up at him.

Stomach twisting, Petra prayed her disappointment didn’t show on her face.  She’d thought they’d made at least a little headway with the kiss, but evidently he felt differently.  Peeling off her dress and underclothes, she reluctantly positioned herself on her hands and knees, presenting her rear to him.

A finger dragged through her slit, causing her to startle.  She glanced over her shoulder and caught Loki licking her off his digit, his eyes closed in satisfaction.  Were he kinder, he’d allow her more kisses if her sopping cunt was the result of such attention, but he wasn’t. 

Face hardening, he crawled on his knees behind her.  She couldn’t suppress the small noise that escaped from her throat as he pushed into her, and had she been able to see his face she would’ve known he’d smirked.  It was reassuring to know he still held power over his _skapning._  

He fucked her brutally, his thighs slapping against her ass as she took him.  She deserved to be punished for what she’d subjected him to.  A kiss was something for lovers, which they were not.  He didn’t owe her anything.

Frustrated and taking his anger out on her, he shoved Petra forward so she lay on her belly.  He slid over her, her closed thighs between his legs as he planted his hands on the bed.  Petra arched with a cry as he slammed deeper, bottoming out with a grunt.  She tilted her head back in delirium, only to catch him staring down at her from above.  Her face contorted as she took in the fire in his red eyes and the snarl pulling at his lip.  He truly looked like a beast with his canines exposed and black nails tearing into the bed on either side of her.

“Come.  Now,” he growled.

His command coupled with the eye contact was all it took to send her shrieking over the edge, her walls contacting hard over his pistoning cock.  He fucked her through her orgasm, making her wail as he prolonged its duration with his brutal thrusts.

Her climax prompted his own, and he grunted as his sac drew tight against his body and come shot from his cock.  He bathed her insides, ignoring the out of breath coo she emitted as he emptied himself inside her.

Loki made a conscious effort to keep his weight from collapsing on her, but he couldn’t keep his head from bowing, his forehead resting against her crown as they caught their breaths.  As his vision returned to normal, Loki rolled off the bed and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Petra let out a loud breath, pushing her sweaty hair from her face and rubbing her eyes.  Though it still hurt that he was taking her like an animal again, Petra realizes he was distancing himself again.  She’d gotten through to some part of him that wanted more than a meaningless coupling, even if he was storming around and causing a racket now.

She used his sheet to wipe the culmination of their tryst from between her legs, fully planning on returning to her bed.  Telling herself she was just catching her breath, she lingered only to ask him a question.  Eventually, Petra nodded off.

She started awake, watching him through half-opened eyes as he climbed back into the bed.  She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with bleary eyes.  It took a moment to form her thoughts, but she managed just as he was laying down.

"How do your horns work?”

He made a monosyllabic noise from the back of his throat and flopped back onto the mattress.    

"They’re just sensitive?”  He didn’t acknowledge her question.  “Why don’t the other Jötnar have them?”

With a heavily exasperated sigh, he tilted his head to look at her.  “I have them because I’m of royal lineage.”  He massaged his eyes tiredly.  “They serve as a method of defense against those that challenge the throne, though that hasn’t occurred in some time.”

Perking, Petra sat up.  “Have you been challenged?”

"My father was.  He was betrayed.  It’s a story for another night.”

“Will our child have horns?”

His lids slipped closed.  “It’s likely, if we have a son.  They’re a dominant trait.”

Petra’s brows furrowed.  “How do you know that?”

“I have children.  Not solely with female Frost Giants.  The males are all born with horns of various sizes.”

Petra’s chest grew tight.  She didn’t like the thought of other women bearing his offspring.

Loki interrupted her thoughts.  “Sleep, Petra.”

With a sigh of her own, she lay back against the pillows.  Aching for something that at least resembled a normal connection, she squirmed closer to him.  Not enough to touch, but enough to feel the coolness emanating from his skin.

“Goodnight,” she murmured.

He responded with a grumble and she closed her eyes again, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, so much for plot.
> 
> Horns and Co™ © [Misreall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall).


	8. I Hide It Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time we got some food.

The next morning, Loki, Marit and his other counselors Hans, Inga, Gunnar and Lisbeth sat around the table in the Great Hall discussing relations with Nidavellir.  The Dwarves had not responded well to the their representative failing to return home. 

Loki drummed his fingers on the table.  “I know it’s a problem, but there’s nothing we could have done differently.  I’ll not sacrifice this realm’s future for a dwarf that can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Marit raised a brow.  “If this happens again, be it with Nidavellir or another realm, it will draw undue attention.  Bilgesnipe attacks killing envoys on more than one occasion?  Highly unlikely.  You need to keep her under a watchful eye.”

"I know,” he snapped.  With a sigh, he rubbed his face.  “I know.  She’s not easy to cloister, unfortunately.”

"I didn’t mean contain her, I meant watch her.  Assign her detail.”

“I think it would be best if she were confin—,” started Gunnar.

“You don’t _confine_ a woman,” interrupted Marit.  “She’ll go mad.  She’ll be resting enough with the pregnancy, spending additional time in that room is going to make her insane.”.

The remaining four advisors looked from Marit to Loki.  The king steepled his fingers against his lips, studying his lead advisor.

“Marit, you’ll watch over her.”

Marit sputtered.  “I have things to do, I don’t have time to take care of a child!”

“She’s not a child.  She’s the mother of the future of our race and you’ll do as I command.  Am I not your king?”

The woman muttered about helpless children of only a few hundred years that can’t do anything themselves.  She completely understood Loki’s reasoning and didn’t disagree, she just didn’t want to do it.

“Wouldn’t a guard detail be more effective?  They’d be better at watching her.  I have actual things to do.”

“Perhaps, but I trust you more.  She stays with you when I don’t have her under my watchful eye.  This is not an argument, it’s a decree.”

Marit crossed her arms, fuming.

“Fine,” she snapped.  “But I’m not postponing my trip to the springs.  She’ll have to come along and I don’t want to hear a word of objection from her.  And if she falls off the damn horse, she’s walking home.”

Hiding a miniscule smile, Loki nodded and rose.  “That will be all for today.”

His advisors bowed, even a miffed Marit, and he set off to find his _skapning._

           

Petra, to her credit, was thrilled to be leaving the castle.  Though still leery of horses, she was able to appreciate that this time her nether regions weren’t sore enough to warrant sitting on a cushion. 

The group of women filed down the side of the mountain horse by horse, carefully making their way through the rough terrain.

“Keep up, Lady,” Marit called over her shoulder.

Stuck at the rear on an old, sluggish horse was Petra.  Her bored animal kept stopping to hoof at the snowy ground in search of grass, blatantly ignoring her as she tried to urge him forward.

Fed up with constantly waiting for Petra to catch up, Marit called her to the front.  Petra’s horse, Skål, neglected to respond to the Dökkálfr’s jerky reining and was finally tethered to the advisor’s horse.

After an hour of trekking down the steep mountainside with little conversation, Petra spoke.

"Are the springs where you grow food?  The onions and herbs?”

Marit nodded, checking to ensure Skål’s reins were properly tied to her saddle.  “Among other things.  We’ll be hauling back most of the harvest today.”

Petra glanced behind at the flock of women trailing behind them.  “I thought the men did most of the physical work?”

Marit snorted.  “What made you think that?”

"Well, when we went to the market, there were only women with us.  I assumed they did most of the domestic tasks?  And you cooked for your mate,” she pointed out.

"Did you not see the women working on their boats?”

“I assumed they were help—.”

“Helping the men?”  Marit laughed and muttered something in her language.  “Hardly.  We are gathering the harvest with women because we work most efficiently together.  Men are too hot-headed to join as a unit.  They work best alone.  Hunting is one of the few activities we do together, and that’s because it benefits the Jötnar as a people.  The men grit their teeth and cooperate with each other long enough to fill the stores, then they return to their ships and homes.”

Surprised, Petra nodded as her belly rumbled.  It made enough noise that Marit reached into her pack and pulled out a piece of jerky, tossing it to the elf.  Mouth watering, she mumbled her thanks from around the food.

Full on jerky and snow-water, Petra patted her tummy contentedly, perking as their descent began to even out.  The staccato of the horses’ steps grew softer as sharp blades of grass stubbornly worked their way through the thick blanket of winter.  As ice turned to dirt and sod, more greenery bloomed and cushioned the clonking hooves.  Patches of snow still dotted the mountainside, but by the time they reached the fields, the majority of it had melted into the ground. 

Petra’s brows rose as the band stopped, looking out over the open space.  The area before them was massive.  The floor of the valley was sectioned into three zones; paddocks for animals took up a third, orchards spanned the tierce, and housing units populated the side opposite.

Marit stopped and twisted in her saddle.

“Get the stores from the cellars and pack them in the carts.  Leave enough for an emergency and we’ll transport the rest home.” 

The women set off down the hillside in pairs, leaving Marit and Petra to admire the pass below.

The fields themselves looked like stairs; staggered platforms jutted out from the sides of the mountains.  Jötnar were scattered about the row upon row of planted greenery that scaled the sides of the peaks all the way down into the valley. 

Marit nodded at the laboring farmers.

“This is the last harvest of the season.  Winter will be here in several weeks.  They’ve been working tirelessly all summer and autumn.”

Marit pointed at the pools beyond the settlement.  “The springs will stay open, heated by the earth from below, but the ground freezes so deep from above the arable land will be useless until winter ends.

Marit trotted into the development with Petra’s horse loping after her.  When she dismounted near a huge stables, Petra followed in suit.

The advisor exchanged greetings with another Jötunn woman standing near the barn.  Petra couldn’t understand them, but they seemed to be catching up.  Her ears glowed pink when Marit nodded in her direction.  The other woman’s eyes came to rest on the girl and she raised a brow critically, then asked something in their language.  Marit shrugged a shoulder and nodded as she replied.  Petra got the sense Marit was saying something along the lines of ‘she’s the best chance we’ve got.’

The strange female called in the direction of one of the houses and a young male scurried outside.  She pointed to the horses and he stuck his hands on his hips while firing back at her.  Marit interrupted the man with a stern tone and his shoulders slumped as he trudged forward to untie Skål’s reigns.  He glared as he did so, causing Marit to snap something threatening.

Sulking, the Jötunn snatched the reins of Marit’s horse too and led the animals off.

Petra stood awkwardly as the two women finished their conversation, trying to dissect their body language.  Marit put her hand on the other woman’s arm and her mouth twitched into something that almost looked like a smile.  The Dökkálfr had a feeling that constituted as a relatively warm exchange.

Turning towards Petra, Marit beckoned.

“Come.”

Muttering about not obeying orders like a dog, Petra followed the advisor towards a grassy paddock.

Out of breath from matching Marit’s long strides, Petra asked, “Who was that?”

“My sister.  And nephew,” she said nonchalantly.

Petra’s brows rose.  She’d been right.  What she’d witnessed had held an air of intimacy.  She almost rolled her eyes at the stoic Jötnar siblings.  Not that Dökkálfar embraced often, if at all, but there was at least some sense of affection between family members.

 Approaching the fence, Marit gestured at something roughly bovine and shook Petra from her train of thought.

“That’s the meat you’ve been eating.”

 The shaggy, humpbacked animals paid Petra and Marit no mind as they grazed, occasionally calling to one another.

“What are they?” asked the elf.

“ _Okser._   Then there are the _fjordhester_ , which you already know.  We rode them here,” she pointed to a pasture of dun colored horses grazing in a far off fenced area.

An _okse_ loped over to the pair, snorting and tossing it’s head.  Marit fished in her bag for a treat and threw it to the animal.  Greedily the beast snapped it up, exhaling loudly through its nose as it chomped.  Marit pensively watched it wander off.

“The _okser_ survive in both snow and sun, which is how we’ve made it through especially extreme winters.  We augment with what we catch hunting.  Many of the _okser_ starve in the brutal cold, but they eat their dead and enough survive to keep us alive.  They reproduce quickly, so we’re able to keep their numbers up come spring.”

Petra blanched.  “They’re carnivores?  Cannibals?”

"They’re… What is the word?”  She racked her brain, then snapped her fingers.  “Omnivores.  Resourceful omnivores.”

The elf swallowed down bile, eyeing the beasts with a new sense of horror.  Their wooly coats and warm brown eyes were almost cute.

"Come.  There’s more to see.”

Petra would’ve almost claimed Marit was eager to show her their innovations, but she was sure that was incorrect.  It would take more than a progressive solution to the famine of bitter cold to excite the giant.

Marit took off again, motioning towards the fields as she stalked back towards the colony.  She pointed to her left as they passed a portion of the mountain speckled with green leaves and flowering plants.  “Over there are _poteter_ and _squash_.  They’re the last vegetables we harvest.  Soon the plants themselves will wither into nothing.  We’ve already picked _epler_ , _druer, korn_ and _hvete_.  It’s been a good year.  We’ll be ready when winter comes.”

Petra pushed her hair from her face and she surveyed the fields.  From memory she recognized the translations for potatoes, squash, apples, grapes, corn and wheat.  It was possible the Jötnar had more diversity in their crops than at home."How… How do you have all of this?  When I was young we were taught Jötunheim was bleak and practically uninhabitable.  How is it you’ve developed such an extensive farming system?”

Marit shrugged as they neared one of the homes, hauling open the doors to an underground cellar.  “We’ve had to be creative.  It took many lifetimes to develop this.  For centuries we were nearly uninhabitable.  Discovering the springs changed our way of life.”

Both women descended into the dark of the hold, Marit’s eyes adjusting faster than Petra’s.  As she got used to the murky gloom, the elf realized they weren’t alone.  Their travel companions were already arm-deep in produce, hefting fruit and vegetables into crates to take back to Utgard.

Marit said something in her language, and the women nodded and hauled the food out of the cramped cellar.

“We’re lucky we’re in the capital,” she commented to Petra.  “Loki sees to it that the rest of the realm’s clans receive rations of meat and produce, but they mainly live off fish.  Utgard eats much better than the rest of our world.”

“Why don’t more move to the capital?”

“Have you met a Frost Giant, Lady?  We’re stubborn and set in our ways.  If your family had a homestead and ships, would you abandon them for comfort at the cost of your pride?”

“No, I suppose not.”

As Marit began lifting sheaves of grain into her arms, she nodded at the back of the cellar.

"Be useful, Lady.  Help them pack the food for the way home.”

Petra ducked her head and began jostling apples into a crate, muttering half an apology for not offering to help.

 

Petra spent the ride home sleeping in one of the narrow carts next to the crop of turnips.  Between the pregnancy and helping pack the harvest, she’d exhausted herself.  Marit would never say so, but she was impressed with the elf.  The girl was plucky, despite her many shortcomings.

The caravan made it back to the capital in several hours, and as the other women began unloading food, Marit carried a sleeping Petra to Loki’s rooms.

Loki glanced up from a scroll as Marit knocked the door open with her hip.

“Did you break her?”

 “Of course not.  She’s just weak and ran out of energy.  Clearly your mating techniques aren’t improving her stamina.”

Loki didn’t look up, but grunted in response.  If only Marit knew.

Refusing to go through the trouble of opening another set of doors to get to Petra’s private room, Marit deposited the Dökkálfr into Loki’s bed.  Crossing her arms, she turned to Loki.

"She did well today, considering her lack of physical prowess.  She worked hard.”

The corners of Loki’s mouth twitched.  “Goodnight, Marit.”

With a huff, the woman quietly exited the quarters.

 

Loki roused Petra several hours later for a dinner of fresh _okse_ and _poteter_.  She pestered him with several questions about the springs, but Petra spent most of the meal ravenously downing her food after the exhausting day.  Loki took the time to study her.  He wasn’t sure he approved of her laboring physically.  Her bones themselves were weak compared to those of the Jötnar, not to mention her lacking musculature.  She wasn’t fit for dragging around large quantities of food.  It was too likely she’d hurt herself trying to keep up.  Not to mention the impending threat of desperate rogue Frost Giants as winter drew nearer.

"You’ll have your own guard detail soon.  I’ve decided I don’t want you tromping through the wilderness with Marit any more than you have to.  If I could watch you myself, I would, but I have more important things to do besides monitoring a child.”

Chewing her bite of meat, Petra’s eyes narrowed.  She swallowed, “I’m not a child!  And I made a single mistake.  One, single mistake.  I accidentally let the man from Nidavellir see me, and you close in on me like I’m a captive.  I do not need a guard detail.  I’ve learned from that particular experience and haven’t burst in on any dinners since.”

"In addition to your social faux pas, you’re also incapable of defending yourself.  You need someone to protect you.”

"Teach me how to protect myself.  It’ll serve me much better in the long run.”

Loki’s lips pursed as they stared each other down.  Breaking her gaze, he sighed.

“Another of my advisors, Lisbeth, used to lead my armies and excels at hand to hand combat.  I suppose she would be a suitable mentor.”

Petra fought to keep from smiling in glee.  She was sick of being told how feeble and defenseless she was.  And to be taught by a woman, who might even have something resembling social skills?  That would be a treat.

"The men don’t do physical labor, they don’t lead your army.  What can they do?”

"In the army, the men carry out solo tasks, such as assassinations.  A select few with exemplary self-control fight with the women.”

Petra raised a brow.  “And you?  Where do you fight?”

Loki narrowed his eyes.  “With the women, of course.”

“Of course,” Petra murmured with a smile.  Obviously he’d see himself as having ‘exemplary self-control.’

"Is something funny, _skapning_?”

It took most of her concentration to keep her grin from spreading.  She shook her head.  “Nothing.”

He raised his chin skeptically, but let it go.  His gaze settled on the elf, eyes zeroing in on her chest.

"Now that it’s been brought up, we have training to complete tonight.”

Petra brightened.  “Fighting?”

Loki’s mouth twitched.  “Not quite.  Take off your clothes.”

Frowning, Petra set her utensils on her plate and rose.  She pulled the sleeves off her shoulders and shimmied out of her dress.  Still standing in her underclothes, she glanced at Loki with uncertainty.

“Off,” he waved at her.

Fighting the urge to growl at his autocratic manner and the abandonment of her dinner, Petra slipped out of her undergarments and crossed her arms over her chest.

Loki moved to the bed, seating himself on the edge of the mattress.  Sighing as though severely taxed by her inability to move without command, Loki beckoned her forward.  She trudged towards his outstretched hand, which guided her between his legs.  He tilted his head to the side with an exhale as he brushed a finger over her collarbone and down her cleavage, knocking her hands away from her chest.

“We have to get you acclimated.”

Trying to act removed despite a shiver, she flipped her silver-white hair over her shoulder.  “Acclimated for what?”

“For the baby.  For feeding.  Jötnar children have an especially strong suckle.  It’s best to prepare you for it now.”

“What are you ta—Ah!”

Loki had leaned forward and sealed his cool mouth around an extra sensitive nipple, watching her reaction as he sucked.  She stared down at him, her hands poised to push him away as her brow crinkled in confusion.

“But there’s no-Why are you-?”

He pulled away with a _pop_ , his tongue flicking out to lick his lip.  “I told you, _skapning_.  I’m acclimating you to the robust nursing strength of our child.”

Petra’s breath hitched as he sucked her pebbled nipple back into his mouth.  She squeezed her thighs together, suppressing a whine.  Her brain was short circuiting.  Each time his cheeks hollowed, tiny bolts of electricity shot between her legs and it was making her dizzy.  Loki attacked her chest with such greed that she clung to his shoulders to keep herself steady. 

She stood between his knees as he sat on the foot of the bed.  He was nearly bent in half to reach her chest, his hands spanning her ribcage as he held her still.  Her own fingers scrabbled against his back, seeking something to grasp when he released her nipple with a wet suckle.

“You are so small,” he grunted, pulling away and stretching his back until it was straight.

Petra rolled her eyes.  She was average height and weight for a Dark Elf.  He was just gargantuan.  It wasn’t her fault their height difference proved a problem even when he sat.

Slipping his hands beneath her arms, Loki reclined and hauled Petra onto his chest.  She yelped, barely keeping their faces from knocking when she caught her palms flat against the bed above his shoulders.  Ignoring her wide eyes, Loki hitched her up higher until her breasts were level with his face.  Her core sat on his upper belly and she shifted with an embarrassed grimace.  He’d soon feel the effect of his mouth on her chest if she stayed where she was.

He settled on his back, using his grip around her waist to move her as needed.  His lips surrounded her areola once more, tugging as he sucked.

Hissing when his teeth pinched the tender bud, Petra awkwardly tried to balance herself while Loki’s mouth assaulted her front.  Her brows raised when his lips deviated, wandering to her chest and leaving deep purple bruises along her breasts and clavicle.  He accented his attentions with sharp nips, making her breath catch.  She frowned.  There was nothing to ‘acclimate’ higher up on her chest.  She couldn’t help but feel as though he were simply marking her, which was a possessive, but often affectionate act... 

Her heart thudded as his lips dragged back to a nipple, working it with his tongue until it was firm and swollen.  Swallowing hard, she tried to keep her hips from circling.  The pressure between her legs was nearly unbearable and she’d have to do something about it soon, but she’d be damned if Loki knew his “training” aroused her.

Tucking her chin, she watched him work.  His enthusiasm was overwhelming.  Loki was completely absorbed in her chest.  Giving her nipple a firm suckle, he released her with a smack of his lips.

He spoke, lips still connected with her skin as he murmured against her breast.  “I can feel you dripping, _skapning._ ”  Tongue darting out, he teased her with lazy, languorous licks. 

Cheeks glowing with embarrassment, Petra ignored him.  Responding would only encourage him to goad her further, and her state of mind was deteriorating with each draw of his mouth.  She’d sorely lose any argument that stemmed from their situation.

Exhaling in irritation, Loki gripped her hips and forced her to rock against his muscled abdomen.  Her breath caught as her core ground against him, her head tilting back as she tried to mask a groan with a cough.  She failed, emitting an muffled cry as her wet slit rubbed against his cool skin.

He absently coaxed her hips into a steady rhythm, and unable to help herself, Petra gave in.  As she moved of her own volition, he switched nipples.  One hand stayed on the first breast to placate the Dökkálfr in his arms while his lips suctioned around the other.  She keened as he nibbled and licked, his other hand overwhelming her with sensation.

Her hips swiveled unconsciously, grinding her bare center against his lower chest.  She felt the vibrations of his moan against her flesh and almost let out a noise that matched his.

She peered down at him, intoxicated by his talented mouth and his knowledge of the inner workings of touching a woman’s breasts.  When he pulled away to study his handiwork, she flushed and stared at the wall ahead, unwilling to meet his gaze should he look up at her.  She didn’t want to be held accountable for her own lewd actions.

Loki ignored her discomfort and admired her turgid nipples, straining into the air for more attention.  He gave them each a final draw, then pulled away.

“That’s enough acclimation for tonight.”    Relieved, horrified, and disappointed, Petra tried to climb off him.  Lifting her like a doll, he flipped them easily before she had a chance to escape.  He held her still with a hand around her throat and the girl spooked, eyes wide as he peered down at her.  She didn’t realize she’d done something wrong?

When she tried to writhe, his grasp tightened.  Petra immediately stilled, gripping the sheets to keep from provoking him by grabbing his wrist.  She became acutely aware of her breaths as she panted, her airway threatened by Loki’s grip.

With a gentle squeeze, he spoke.  “Be still.”

Petra swallowed hard and jerked her chin in understanding. 

Staring up into the embers of his eyes made her core ache, so she let her lids flutter closed, her body relaxing beneath his.  Though his fingers had gone slack around her throat, her lips remained parted as her choppy, uneven breathing continued.

She started when a set of teeth pinched her lower lip.  The pain was instantly soothed with a cool tongue laving the sting.  As Loki sucked her lower lip into his mouth, she stared at his face, blinking as his elegant brows furrowed in what could, in no way, be passion.  An act on his part inspired by feeling would’ve been absurd.

He casually toyed with her mouth, tongue flicking against hers and gliding along her teeth as she lay dumbfounded.  When he pulled away, her heart sank.  He’d ended the kiss before she’d fully processed what was happening.  She clenched her jaw and kept from eagerly following his retreating mouth, looking away as he stared down at her with a smirk.

“ _Skapning_.”

Frowning, her eyes flicked back to his.

“Reciprocate,” he growled as his lips descended once more.

Her breath hitched, brow crinkling in confusion as he took her mouth again.  His canines nipped her lower lip, causing her to give a muffled cry.  She could feel him smile as he kissed her firmly, lapping at the tiny lesion.

He grunted unhappily when she remained still, but just as he was about to bite her again, Petra’s brain connected with her mouth.  Still in a daze, her tender lips accepted his tongue, nudging at it with her own as a slack arm tentatively lifted from the bed and wrapped around his neck.

His groan vibrated through their kiss, coaxing a moan of her own.  She struggled beneath him and the hand around her throat tightened.  She ignored it in lieu of working her legs out from beneath him and wrapping them around his waist.

Once he realized her intent, his grasp lessened and he refocused on taking her mouth.  She rocked beneath him, her naked core slickening the fabric of his shirt.  Her heels dug into his lower back as she feverishly tried to rub against him with a whine.

He pulled away, his features morphing into a haughty expression as he gazed down at her.

“What do you want, _skapning_?”

Petra pulled away.  When did he ever ask what she desired?  She never had a say when they mated.

“I-I don’t know?”

He smirked.  “There’s nothing you want in this moment?”

Cheeks tinged crimson, Petra narrowed her eyes.  She didn’t appreciate being humiliated.  “I would like sex.”

“Tell me more.  Be explicit, Petra _._   Otherwise I can’t give you want you want.”

Eyes squeezed shut, she tried to articulate her desire.

“I want—.”

“Open your eyes.”

She winced as her lids rose, afraid he’d mock her in her vulnerable state.  “I want you to fuck me,” she whispered.

He stared for a moment before rising to his knees, centering his hips over hers.  He rested part of his weight on her, making Petra sigh in contentment as his clothed erection pressed against her core.  She tried to arch her back, desperate for friction.

With a grunt, he pulled at his trousers, untying and kicking them off, freeing his cock in the process.  He watched her face scrunch in pleasured pain as he plunged into her, emitting a low groan.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to him penetrating her.  His ridged cock was just too thick upon impact.  But Norns, once he was inside her, once she’d adjusted,  she never wanted him to leave.  The silky flesh pumped in and out as she struggled with what to do with her hands.  She wanted to bury them in his hair, to wrap them around his horns or to simply cling to him, but she didn’t think he’d be receptive of any of that.  Instead, she pushed up off the bed on her elbows and attached her mouth to his once more.

This time Loki’s eyes opened in surprise, but he recovered quickly and easily took control of the kiss.  His hand migrated from her neck to her jaw, cupping her face and moving her as he pleased.  Their noses knocked as he constantly repositioned them, his tight grip on her cheek and jaw comforting in an odd way.  She felt safe beneath him.

Distracted by the kiss, her breath left her lungs when he gave her an especially rough pounding.  She squirmed beneath him, latching on to his body with all her might.  As she began moaning on each exhale, Loki lifted his face, watching her steadily as she fell apart.  With an extra rough thrust, she broke, a wail soaring from her lips as she seized beneath him.  Vaguely she realized she lacked his permission, but it felt too good to stop.

Collapsing beneath him, her chest heaved as she gasped for breath.  Loki pushed up off her, planting his knees on the bed and slipping his arms beneath her legs, hauling her pelvis into his lap.  The strength of each impact, his forcing their hips together by bucking forward and yanking her against him, caused her to squeal as her sensitive clit was caught in the crossfire.  He ignored her, taking his pleasure with a hiss.

Halfheartedly her hips twitched, struggling to find a position that wouldn’t inevitably cause a second orgasm, but his cold fingers cruelly dug into her skin as he glared down at the elf.

“Still,” he rumbled.

Petra had yet to regain control of her facial muscles, and all she managed in response was a swallow and a jerky nod.  Her eyes flickered back as Loki began thrusting with long, steady strokes that grew faster and faster, each pump of his hips causing his cock to brush against a sensitive spot inside her.  When she cried out and seized, he braced a huge palm against her chest, pinning her in place as his hips rammed against hers.  The brutal slap of skin on skin accompanied by rough panting filled the room was accented by Loki’s abrupt shout as he emptied himself inside Petra.

Both of them took a few moments to regain use of their limbs, and she watched his face darken as he rested inside her.  Wiping his brow, Loki pulled out without looking at down.  He flopped onto his side with his back to her, too tired to evict the elf from his bed, despite the unsettling level of intimacy they’d just reached.  Well-buried habits from his time on Asgard gnawed to be set free; faint instincts to touch and hold her.  Grinding his teeth, he forced the urges back into the depths of his unconscious and closed his eyes.

Petra lay panting for a moment, catching her breath and watching him for signs of life.  Aside from his expanding ribs, there were none.  He was either working very hard to disregard her or sleeping.  Furious at the tears prickling her eyes, she quietly slipped from his bed and padded to her room.  She wouldn’t sleep where she was unwanted, despite her desire to be close to him.  Angrily dashing away the moisture, she curled up in her own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shuttered inside by an April snowpocalypse = chapter. Thanks to everyone that's kindly asked for updates since the last chapter. I know I was slow, but your interest helped keep me plunking away at this. 
> 
> And in case I don't update until post IW... 
> 
> We got this, guys. _If_ Marvel fucks us over, that's on them. We know we have each other's backs and Loki will be the ever loving definition of immortal on here. Screw anyone that tries to write him differently.
> 
> Again, the hot spring geniusness isn't mine.  
> Geothermal Pool Farming™ © [Misreall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall).


	9. Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time we played tag with arrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... Just thank you. Thank you for being here and maintaining interest in this silly story. It's been almost 3.5 months since I've updated and if you've wandered back to me once more for this chapter, it means the world. I'm so sorry I feel off the face of the earth. To those that discovered INT while I was dormant, welcome and thank you for your comments and love. I've been fighting to get through this chapter for eternity and your encouragement and enthusiasm kept me going.
> 
> In other news, this bitch got an A in her LAST COLLEGE MATH CLASS EVER.
> 
> In other, OTHER, even BETTER news: I'm a little speechless. My beloved [TheLeftHand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLeftHand/pseuds/TheLeftHand) is not only a talented [writer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055218/chapters/27299334), but an amazing artist as well. She drew this stunning picture of Loki and Petra. I can't even. I'm flabbergasted. The shading, the colors, the horns, the hair! Words cannot express my gratitude!
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=1zwopxt)  
> 

Upon meeting Lisbeth, Loki’s ex-general, Petra concluded that not all female Frost Giants had Marit’s affect.  Not that Marit was warm to begin with, but she wasn’t completely savage.  Lisbeth, on the other hand, was infinitely angrier, apathetic and had little time for the elf’s objections to her less than gentle training methodology.

Petra and Lisbeth sparred for a half a day before the giant grew exasperated with Petra’s lack of physical prowess.  Over the next few weeks, the Jötunn decided employing more evasive, defensive tactics would better serve the incompetent girl, which led to Petra’s current fleeing through a scattering of birch trees.  Hastily she glanced over her shoulder as she ran, skipping over a thick root. 

Not far behind her a taunting voice called out, “You’re lazy, Lady.  And slow.  If I were your enemy, you’d be dead by now.”

Chest tight and throat raw, Petra pushed through the discomfort and forced her booted feet to pound the snow, silently cursing Lisbeth and her ornery training approach.

As she wove between trees, an arrow sunk into a robust tree trunk.  Had she the air in her lungs, she would’ve complained that the warning shot was awfully close to her person.  However, her chest burned so badly she couldn’t even manage a grumble. 

Lisbeth continued to plague the elf with off-kilter shots every few hundred yards.  Mercilessly the chase continued until Petra ducked into a thicket and slowed her pace, though she didn’t dare stop completely.

As she slipped between birches, several minutes passed before she realized the flying arrows and jeering had ceased.  She finally halted, bracing her forearm against a mammoth tree and battling the urge to greedily gulp air.  Delicately panting, she peeked around the trunk, hugging it close enough that her cheek brushed against the rough bark. 

With the exception of a single twittering bird, the woods around her were silent.  No drifting snow, no scampering animals, no Lisbeth.  Not that Petra was foolish enough to think she’d lost the woman.  Tracking was surely a skill Frost Giants possessed, most definitely ex-generals. 

 With a sigh louder than she intended, Petra sidled back around the tree and gazed up at the limbs to determine which branch to reach for first.  Climbing appealed much more than running.  She’d never scaled a tree before, but the ground was cold and the tree was preferable to wandering around the forest blindly.  Wrapping her fingers around the lowest branch, she planted a foot on the trunk when icy metal pricked against her throat.

 “Like I told you.  _Lat._ Lazy, Lady.  Assuming you could climb, you’d be trapped.  Then what?”

“Then I’d be free of you,” Petra muttered.  Lisbeth held the girl at knifepoint a moment longer to emphasize the fact that the elf was the lesser opponent before loosening her grasp.  Petra ducked out of Lisbeth’s hold and brushed her fingers where the knife had touched her skin.  No blood, not that the Jötunn would’ve cared.

The giant scoffed, tossing her ebony braid over her shoulder.  “ _Lat_ ,” she said again, shaking her head.  “Don’t know why he bothers.”

Exhaustion sank heavily over Petra’s shoulders and the urge to fire back abandoned her.  “I want to go home.”

Without a word Lisbeth spun and stalked off the way she came.  After a few minutes of quiet, the giantess stopped to pry an arrow from a tree trunk.  “Not your home,” she said over her shoulder.  “ _Our_ home.  Not yours.”

The pit of rejection that formed in Petra’s stomach was more powerful a reaction than she would’ve expected.  The girl tugged her hood over her glowing ears, proudly lifting her chin as if it would neutralize her embarrassment.               

“Then take me back to the castle.”

Lisbeth’s lip curled in a sneer and she nodded the way they were headed.  “This way, Lady.”

 

After a long day spent with Lisbeth, all Petra wanted was to bathe and sleep.  She doubted Loki would permit either luxury without a cost.  As she padded through the foyer, her shoulders slumped with relief when his quarters appeared empty.  She ran the bath, scrubbing herself free of frozen sweat and grime before collapsing back into the steaming water.  Submerged to her chin, she groaned in contentment and let her eyes flutter shut.

Petra woke with a full body tremble.  The water had gone frigid while she dozed, causing her teeth to chatter.  Holding her breath against the even cooler air of the room, she scrambled out of the tub and into a towel.  Norns, she missed the soft linens of Svartalfheim.  The scratchy Jötunn fabrics did their duty of absorbing water, but were noticeably rougher than the textiles of home.

Grunting as her battered shoulders flexed, she wrapped herself in the towel.  In the morning, her muscles were going to announce just how much they didn’t forgive her for tromping around the forest like a mad woman.

She huddled before the washroom fire, hurriedly drying herself as she caught her own movement in the mirror before her.  She slowed and stared at her reflection, a hand wandering towards her middle.

Though weeks had passed since the initial conception, she swore she hadn’t noticed any changes in her body until now.  Petra rubbed a palm over her lower tummy, turning sideways in the mirror.  Curiously she pressed on the small protrusion, only to be met with firm substance.  She tried sucking her belly in, which made no difference in the slight bulge.

“Motherhood suits you.”

Petra glanced over her shoulder.  A shirtless Loki lounged in the doorway.

Primly folding herself in the towel, her gaze lingered on him before returning to her stomach.  “There’s hardly any difference,” she muttered, smoothing a hand over the swell.

Fabric rustled as Loki pushed off the frame, stalking behind her.  He dragged the cloth from her shoulders, prompting her to sigh in irritation as her arms dropped to her sides.  Discarding the towel, Loki took a step back, steepling his fingers against his lips as he observed her bare body in the mirror.  The pair stood in silence, Petra fidgeting.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.  Not from you.”  The way his eyes roamed her backside, then flicked to the mirror to examine her front indicated differently, as did the way he rubbed his palm over his half-hard erection.

The severity of her arrogant chin lift lessened when her body vibrated with a shiver.

  She ignored it, meeting his gaze in the mirror. 

“You want something.  You wouldn’t be wasting your time here if you didn’t.”

Loki examined her, raising a challenging brow.  His eyes boredly roamed over her form before returning to her eyes.

Petra crossed her arms.  “Don’t act indifferent.  You find me appealing,” she snapped.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he pressed his body flush against hers, gliding his fingers along the curve of her waist.  He watched in the mirror, amused as her chest rose and fell at a faster pace.  Loki tugged her hips backwards, groaning as the soft flesh of her arse cushioned the bulge in his trousers.

“I find you… well-formed, I suppose.”  He nipped the tip of her ear, murmuring against her hair.  “And what about me, _skapning_?  Do you find me appealing?”

The hand around her waist snatched her wrist, twirling her so she faced him. 

She knew it was petty and that his pride wouldn’t suffer in the least, but she refused to answer.  She merely blinked and pulled at her wrist. 

“Let’s see...” He laced their digits together, an intimate act that made Petra recoil.  Loki allowed no such freedom, instead yanking her closer.  “There are my fingers, which I use to play you like a Midgardian fiddle.”

“A fiddle?” she breathed.

He gave her a lascivious smile, chuckling and pressing her palm against his muscled chest and covering it with his own.  “And my body, do you like that as well?  The power I wield?  The muscles woven over my bones that can as easily protect you as they can harm you?” he asked, dragging her hand down his hard abdomen.

She shuddered as he flexed beneath the pads of her fingers, the sheer might of him making her throb.

“And then there’s my cock,” he purred, manipulating her fingertips so she unlaced his trousers.  Without shame he guided her hand beneath the waistband and closed it around the stiff pillar of his length.

“This I know you like,” he breathed heavily as he closed his fingers around hers, then began pumping his fist, forcing her to stroke him.  “You become useless when faced with my cock, don’t you, Petra?” 

Loki’s sentences were unsteady; he was having trouble concentrating.  But his motions were even and measured opposed to her subtle trembling.  She tried for a shake of the head, but when Loki’s mouth bit her earlobe and continued traveling against her jaw, Petra lost the ability to think.

“I—,” she tried, interrupted when he spoke against the corner of her mouth. 

“And my lips, you like these as well.”  He kissed her lower lip, coaxing a soft moan from the elf.  As he pulled away she followed without hesitation, only to be held in place with a cool hand on the curve of her shoulder.

“All in all, you find me pleasing.”

He said it with such certainty that she wanted to hit him, but between the fact that he was right and the part where he could overpower her in a nanosecond, she refrained. 

His eyes bored into her, crimson pools radiating heat set off by his glowing indigo skin.  Not traditionally beautiful in the eyes of the Aesir or Dökkálfar, but striking nonetheless.  And beautiful to her.  He was right.  His hands, fingers, muscles, cock; his mind, she lusted after them all, conventionally handsome or no. 

Frowning, she fought to otherwise wipe emotion from her face.  There was no benefit to confirming just how attractive she found him.

“My expressive little _skapning._   How hard you try,” he mused as he paid notice to her black-blown pupils and shaky breathing.

A moment of silence passed between them, the pair’s eyes locked.  Loki toyed with the tips of her hair, tilting his head casually.

“How was practice with Lisbeth?”

Petra stiffened in surprise, raising her chin to meet his eyes.

 “She chased me.”

He wove his fingers into her mane, thoughtfully pulling them through the platinum strands. “Were you fast?”

“That’s not how you’re supposed to respond to that statement,” she growled.

Boredly neglecting to meet her eyes, his brows raised.  “Were you?”

Petra huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Not as fast as she was.  But you know that.  You’re well aware of her skill versus mine.”

Loki sobered and slid his fingers from her hair, trailing them down her shoulder.  He used his index finger to trace the side of her breast.  “In time, you’ll learn.  You’ll shadow Marit when you’re not with Lisbeth until you’re declared fit to be on your own.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        "On my own?  You make me sound like a child—.” 

“You may as well be a child in this realm, _skapning_.  It’s too dangerous for you to be by yourself.  Winter brings out the worst in our kind.  Brutality takes on a new meaning.  Jötnar will do anything to survive, to keep their families alive.  You’d ransom enough food to keep a small clan well fed until spring, assuming they weren’t hungry enough to eat you first.”

Petra’s stomach twisted as she tried to ignore the mention of her gruesome end.  She detested vulnerability, let alone vulnerability in a foreign realm.  Being defenseless made her feel like a burden, and Marit was the closest thing she had to a… cohort? on Jötunheim.  The advisor already found her irritating, the last thing she wanted to do was seriously sever the beginnings of a potentially budding… camaraderie with the woman, which she was afraid she would do by becoming her involuntary shadow.

With a sigh, her eyes flicked to Loki’s as she opened her mouth to argue.  When she saw his concerned gaze trained on her belly, she felt as though she’d been struck in the chest.            He didn’t care about her wellbeing; he cared about the baby’s.  She supposed she should be grateful.  She’d feel horribly guilty in the afterlife should she be responsible for her child’s premature death because of her own stupidity.  It was good that he was preoccupied with his or her safety.

“Fine,” she pushed his wandering hands away from her chest.  “I’ll accompany Marit when I’m not training with Lisbeth.”

“Good.  Tomorrow you’ll help her distribute the harvest.”

Pursing her lips, she nodded and pushed past him into the bedroom.  Exhaustion was muddling her brain and making her emotional.  Pressing her palm against her chest, she massaged the tight ball of disappointment lodged near her heart.  Clearing her throat, she peeled back the bed covers and climbed in, turning to face away from a confused Loki as she closed her eyes to sleep.

 

 

“Work faster, Lady,” Marit groused, stopping to catch her breath.  “It’s going to get dark soon.”

Grumbling, Petra used all of her strength to drag a crate stuffed with _hvete_ to the edge of the wagon.  She had to admit as a result of her exercises with Lisbeth, she’d noticed a drastic difference in her strength, though apparently her efficiency still needed refining.

Planting her hands on her hips, the Dökkálfr paused from her harvest work to examine the hordes of arriving Frost Giants.  Most Jötnar were mounted on _f_ _jordhester_ , gathered in groups of similar looking giants, primarily composed of a single matriarch accompanied by younger men and women.

Garb and hairstyles varied from clan to clan.  The more rural giants wore simple leather clothing, even more rudimentary than that of the village giants.   Their manes were in large braids down their backs, whereas the Jötnar from the village plaited their hair in a series of tiny braids woven away from their faces.  Both styles were practical, though the urban arrangements were more fashionable.

Marit cleared her throat louder than necessary, snapping Petra back to the task at hand.  She rolled her eyes and helped the advisor lower the case to the ground, lugging it to an open spread of the market buzzing with Frost Giants.

A row of villagers stood in a line, each with the season’s worth of a specific fruit or vegetable behind them to dole out to each clan.

“It’s not often we’re together in such numbers,” commented the Marit as they returned to the wagon.  “It’s exciting now, but in a few hours fights will break out.  You’re not to leave my side once the sun sets.”

Petra quirked a brow, but there was no time to question her.  The organized Jötnar began filing through the line of Marit’s villagers, where each received enough supplies to last them through the winter.

“Some of these giants have labored for days to get here,” Marit explained as she hoisted a barrel of fruit from the back of her wagon and into the arms of another large female.  “In a few weeks the conditions will be too poor for travel.”

The Jötunn continued through the line, gathering rations to take back home.  Villagers not doling out food bustled past Petra with their arms full of produce, some glaring as she got in their way.  She mentally shrugged them off.

“How will things change?  It gets colder?” asked Petra as she helped a younger male transport a crate packed with _okser_ meat.

Marit stopped and wiped her brow.  “Colder, windier.  More precipitation.  The ice storms can be fatal.  The shards that rain down can pierce our skin and the frozen shell that accumulates on our hair and clothes can slow the strongest of giants.  The weight of the ice coating won’t kill us, but it does make us vulnerable as prey.”  She handed Petra a basket of yellow and red apples and the elf hauled it out towards a waiting couple.  The pair narrowed their eyes at the elf, but she was too busy to pay much attention.  In the end, they begrudgingly thanked her for her help.

When Petra returned back to Marit’s side, the advisor was looking out over the mountainous land as the clans gathered around their wagons to unload provisions.  Despite the manual labor, many Jötnar were distracted by the white-haired elf.  Both old and young peered at her like a spectacle.  Not unlike when she first arrived in the hunting camp, there were curious glances and wicked glares.

“It’s good for them to see you,” commented Marit.  “They need to know you’re not going away.”

"Why would I go away?”

The giant sighed and stalked back into the rear of the covered wagon, leaving a confused Petra outside alone.  Marit returned a moment later rolling three enormous pumpkins down the ramp and through the snow.  Another set of Jötnar accepted them with a nod and hefted them onto their shoulders.

Wiping her hands on her trousers, Marit turned back to Petra.  “There has been minor unrest at your presence.  Several protests have taken place.  There have only been two deaths and they were on the side of opposition, so is not great loss.  Anyone who rebels against king courts death.”

Petra balked.  “Two giants have died because of me?  Because I’m here?”

 Marit shrugged a shoulder and helped another giant guide a wheelbarrow through a well-established track in the snow.  “It’s not of your concern, Lady.  It’s Loki’s business.  Jötunn can be stupid.”

Petra’s brows rose, but she nodded solemnly.  “Alright.”

“Now, pick a clan and aid them in loading their wagons.”

“Am I really making a difference?  I feel like I’m in the way as much as I help.”

“Go,” pointed Marit.

With a sigh she adjusted her cloak and set off in the direction of a cluster.

“Not that one,” Marit called. 

There was a hint of concern to her voice.  Upon further examination, Petra supposed the expressions of the individuals she had been approaching were rather hostile.

Changing direction, she marched off to help the next group.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the "I-know-you-like-me" Loki tease in the bathroom is enough to keep you coming back. Real smut in the next chapter.
> 
> Lots of love xx


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